


Red Thorns

by Angelcks



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: I'M NOT CRYING YOU ARE, M/M, Romeo and Juliet AU, Tragic Romance, klance is ruining me?, were all gonna cry in the end but hang on tight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7741666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelcks/pseuds/Angelcks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Montague's and the Capulet's. Romeo and Juliet. Lance and Keith. Sounds fitting doesn't it? <br/>Two ancient rival houses that try to break bonds between each other, end up bringing two people closer than ever before.<br/>And this time, they aren't straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act 1 / Scene 1

CHARACTERS  
\---------------------------------------------  
Romeo-Lance  
Juliet-Keith  
Paris-Rolo  
Mercutio-Hunk  
Benvolio-Pidge  
Tybalt-Rax  
Friar Lawrence-Coran  
Lady Montague- Allura  
Capulet- Shiro  
Nurse- Shay  
Prince of Verona- King Alfor  
Rosaline- Nyma  
Sampson- Sendak  
Gregory- Thace  
Abraham- Matthew Holt  
Balthazar- Samuel Holt

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

Two households, both alike in dignity, 

In fair Verona where we lay our scene

From ancient grudge, break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean:

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes,

A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life:

Whose misadventured piteous overthrows,

Doth with their death bury their parents’ rage,

Which but their children’s end nought could remove,

Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage.

The which if you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
Prologue –

 

Our story begins in the hot bustling city of fair Verona, where the usual quarreling of the Montague’s and the Capulet’s occurred, always disturbing the peace whenever possible. Aliens of all sorts came to the city simply to experience the violence, or spectate the extraordinary views the place withheld. Today was the start of another shamble, starting with the Capulet’s.

Two very loud ones indeed, strode beside one another, bearing swords and shields covered in an array of red colors, their booming voices sounded the narrow alleyways making some spectators glare in their direction.

 

“I tell you Thace, we won’t eat dirt.”

“No, because then we’d be like the coal miners.” 

Nodding his head intently, Sendak touched his sword by his side and frowned. “What I mean is, if they make us hot under the collar, we’ll draw our swords. I strike quickly when I get angry and you are aware of it.”

The second Capulet, Thace, continued to walk besides Sendak, and listened to his proposition. “But you don’t get angry easily my friend, unless it’s a-“

Before he could finish the sentence, Sendak shot back at him quickly. “Montague, I know. Those dogs would get me moving to stand my ground on any day. I wouldn’t dare step aside for any Montague man or maid.”

 

Thace attempted to retort at his answer. “That shows what a weak character you are, since the weakest always step away against the wall.” 

Nodding, Sendak stepped over a pile of scattered dirt and smirked at his words. “That’s true, and that’s why women, being weak are always backed against the wall. So I’ll shove Montague’s men out into the streets and push his maids against the wall.”

“Your words sire, people can hear you!” Thace gruffly chuckled anyways, but straightened his form to its original posture. 

“Nonsense, let them hear. And after I’m done fighting the men, I’ll be polite to the maids, I’ll cut off their heads.”

“The heads of the maids?” Thace inquired, his face scrunching up in disgust. 

“Yes the heads of the maids, and I shall take their virginity! Take it in whatever sense you want to.” Sendak was now boasting into open crowds, making strangers turn their heads in curiousity and/or wonder. Thace looked around as the two continued to walk throughout the town.

“My friend your words are confusing, but I can feel as if they are right. It’s good you aren’t a fish, if you were, you’d be a poor catch!” 

Suddenly, the crunching of dirt and rocks sounded in the distance making the two Capulet’s bristle in advance. Thace grabbed his sword and clenched it.

 

“Draw your sword. Here come two men from the house of Montague.” Both the aliens drew out their weapons and waited anxiously for the arrival. 

 

Soon enough, two figures stepped out of the alleyway, making the now crowded central square gasp nervously. They were well dressed men, one looking older than the other, but still creating a dangerous aura surrounding their figures. Swords sheathed, both men held bright blue shields and carried blue rags, frowns placed on their features. 

Sendak broke the silence and whispered cautiously to Thace. “My sword is out. Start a quarrel with them, I’ll back you.” 

 

“How do you mean ‘back me’?” Thace angerly whispered back. “Do you mean turn your back and run?”

 

“Of course not,” Sendak shook his head. “I’m not worried about you!”

 

“I’ll give them a dirty look when I walk by, let them take it however they want to.” The bulkier alien suggested silently.

 

“I’ll give them the finger, they’ll be disgraced if they don’t do something about that.” Sendak shot back, straightening up to sheath his sword in one fluid motion.

 

The crowd leaned in anticipation, watching the men’s every move closely. Sendak turned and scratched his head, flipping off the two men silently and smirked.

“Did you give us the finger, sir?” The younger Montague shouted furiously.

“I gave the finger.” Sendak shot back, excited to get a reaction out of the boy.

“Did you give us the finger, sir?” He yelled again and crossed his arms.

Turning to Thace, Sendak played along pretending to be oblivious to the situation at hand. “Is the law on our side if I say yes?”

Shaking his head with precaution, Thace answered. “No.”

“Then no sir, I did not give you the finger, sir, but I did give the finger.” Sendak said grinning from ear to ear. “Why sir, would you want to start something?”

The younger Montague present, named Matthew Holt glanced to the older man, named Samuel Holt for further instructions. Samuel nodded and adjusted his glasses grasping the blue shield.

 

“Start something, sir? No, sir.”

 

Frowning, Sendak pushed on. “Well, if you do, sir, I’m ready. My master is as good as yours.” 

 

“No better?” Matthew clenched his teeth in frustration. Meanwhile, a clatter arose making the two Montagues turn their heads only to relax as to who entered the commotion. 

 

It was the Montague, Pidge Gunderson, who looked rather curious but annoyed to why two of the house’s men were throwing back insults with the devil himself. They strode beside the men and placed their hands on their hips clearly done.  
Matthew nodded in their direction before turning back to the two Capulet’s to return an insult.

“Say it I dare you.”

Thace on the other hand smirked and shrugged. “Say ‘better’. Here comes one of our master’s relatives.”

Sendak clapped in the tension filled air slowly. “Yes, better, sir.” 

“You’re a liar!” Matthew yelled angerly.

“Draw your swords, if you’re man enough. Thace, don’t forget your slashing stroke!” 

And all at once there was a flash of blue and red, clashing of swords, and curses filling the air. It lasted for a solid minute before a whistle blew over the commotion causing the ruckus to halt. Turning to the source of the sound, Pidge shook their head and drew their sword out from the blue ivory case strapped to the hip.

 

“Stop it you fools. Put away your swords. You don’t know what you’re doing.” Huffing, Matthew listened and sheathed his sword with a pout. Stepping away from Thace, he crossed his arms and looked away.

 

Yet another sound filled the now broken silence, making all heads turn towards the source. Another Capulet stepped out into the sunlight causing a burst of whispers to erupt above the crowd. His bulky body covered in the red uniform, holding a sword and shield with a cocky manner. Thace and Sendak grinned eerily and step forward to the new approacher.   
He is called Rax, the one who is feared by all, even the Capulet’s. Known for his free-caring attitude, and fierce fighting tactics, everyone was aware of how dangerous this Capulet really was.

 

“What! Are you fighting with mere servents, these timid animals? Turn around, Pidge. Face your death!”

 

Pidge stopped walking and gracefully turned around, a frown plastured upon their face. “I’m just trying to keep the peace. Put away your sword. Or use it to help me separate these men.”

 

Laughing at the now furious Pidge, Rax bent over with laughter filling his lungs. Thace and Sandak chuckled along with their leader in a nervous manner not clearly expecting his reaction.

 

“What! Talking about peace with your sword drawn? I hate the word ‘peace’ as I hate hell, and all the Montegues, and you! Come on, coward!”

 

That was all Pidge needed for them to run forward and strike Rax on his shield causing him to falter. Matthew and Samuel took that as a yes to the violence, and unsheathed their swords, attacking the nearest Capulet their weapon could touch. Rax grinned to the reaction he had gotten out of the Montague and swung his sword back at Pidge, hitting their shield as well. Minutes passed, and some citizens got into the middle of it as well, taking sides of which house they preferred or hated. Flashes of blue and red surrounded the central square, while blatant shouting rang throughout the air as the clashing continued.

Soon enough, the officers came and interrupted the quarrel violently, striking citizens who had started the now bigger commotion.

 

“Clubs, axes, spears! Stop! Put them down!”

 

The citizens that surrounded the square now shouted in anger and raised whatever weapons they had carried.

 

“Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montegues!”

 

As the officers continued to calm the outcry, a carriage stopped outside the circle, carrying the Lady of the Montague House. Her name is Allura, and her ego stood out like a sore thumb. Basically, she was known to take no crap in her house, and treated everyone equally with fair ruling. That was her motto and Allura stuck with it.  
She stepped out of the vehicle and frowned at the fuss in front of her. Her long flowing aqua white hair fluttered along her back and onto her blue dress.

 

The Lady was beautifully elegant. 

 

Next to the blue lit up carriage, bustled up a red vehicle carrying the Man of the Capulet House. His name is Shiro, and unlike Allura, he had different standards. Known to be the ‘father’ of the House was an understatement, he had rules and if they were disobeyed, hell was unleashed. What made Shiro stand out from the Montagues was his jet white poof of hair that lay on his head, and his incredible taste in fashion. He took no fuss in his establishment as well.

 

Stepping out of the red carriage, he straightened up at the scene unfolded in front of his eyes. Officers were man handling men left and right, before striking them down. Both frowning, the Lady and the Man of the Houses glanced in each other’s directions before looking away flustered. 

 

Shiro stepped forward and grabbed his sword threateningly without a second thought. “What’s all the noise? Give me my long sword, you there!” he pointed to the nearest servant and waved to get his attention.

Instead, Allura strode up to the Capulet, ignoring her servant’s protests, and placed her hands on her hips in a dangerous manner. “You villain, Capulet! Don’t you try anything!”  
He huffed impatiently and pushed her aside. “Don’t get in my way woman!”

The fighting seemed to be growing by the passing moments, the yelling and screaming increased by volume and violent acts continued at one another.

A booming voice erupted all movements in the crowd almost instantly. “You rebels! Enemies of peace! You stain your swords with your neighbors blood!” all heads turned toward the sound but some continued to hit and kick, ignoring who stood before them. King Alfor, ruler of the city and who was clearly tired of all the nonsense occurring stood in front of an army of men. He had been in charge of the small town for a while now and was receiving complaints targeting the two Houses.

 

“Silence! Can’t you hear? Hey you men there! You beasts that put out the fire of your anger with the blood from your veins. On pain of torture, drop those weapons from your bloody hands.” Instantly, almost all fighting ceased, silence filled the air, while both the Houses and citizens fell into a regretful thought process.

 

Happy to finally have the center of attention, the King continued on. “Now listen to the judgment of your angry King. Three fights have occurred because of a few words from you, Capulet, and from you, Lady Montague, disturbing our quiet streets. Verona’s oldest citizens have put aside their dignified manner and taken up old rusted weapons, in hands just as old and rusty with peace, to break up your cancerous fight. If you ever disturb the peace of our town again, you will pay with your lives.”

 

Pidge looked at the ground in shame, before glancing at Allura, who seemed conflicted with the situation at hand. Fiddling with her nails and looking at Shiro several times meant one thing, she was nervous.

“For now, let the crowd break up. You, Capulet, will go with me, and you, Montague, will come to see me this afternoon at our court at old Freetown, to learn what else I have decided on this matter.” 

Taking a final look across the star struck citizens the King let out a sigh before taking a step forward. “Once again- on pain of death- everyone disperse!”  
Not taking any chances, everyone scatters into different directions, fleeing from the King and his army. Once everyone had ran off, there stood Lady Montague, Capulet, and Pidge looking anywhere but King Alfor’s frowning face. 

 

Before words could be spoken upon the small group, Allura’s voice pierced through the air.

“Who started up this quarrel again? Speak, child; were you here when it began?”

 

Pidge cleared their throat before speaking. “Your enemy’s servants and your servants were fighting hand to hand before I arrived. I drew my sword to stop them, but just then that fiery-tempered Rax arrived. He had his sword out and was shouting blatant insults my way, swinging the sword around his head. His sword swished the air but I wasn’t hurt, and the sword seemed to hiss in scorn. While we were exchanging thrusts and blows, others came and joined in, fighting one-on-one, until the King came and stopped them.”

 

The King nodded and turned towards Shiro, who seemed to be fuming rather at Rax for starting the commotion or making it grow into a larger situation than it should had been. 

 

“Where is Lance?” Allura turned towards Pidge again, worry etched into her eyes. “Did you see him today? I’m very glad he wasn’t in this fight.”

 

They shook their head and sighed deeply. “Madam, an hour before the sun appeared at its golden window in the east, my mind was troubled and I went for a walk. In the grove of the sycamore trees that grows on the west side of the city, I saw your son taking an early morning walk. I started towards him, but he saw me and hid in the woods. I believed he felt as I did then. When I wanted most was to be where there was the fewest people. My own weary self was one too many. I followed my feelings and didn’t follow him. I was happy to avoid him, just as he was happy to avoid me.” Pidge turned away, clearly troubled by the information they spilled.

 

Allura nodded and looked up at the gray clouds filling the sky. “He’s been seen there many a morning, his tears adding to the new morning’s dew, the clouds formed by his deep sighs and adding to the clouds that already exist. But as soon as the cheery sun begins to rise in the east, pushing back the curtains of night, my gloomy son comes home to avoid the light. He locks himself in his room, closes the shutters on his windows to lock out the daylight, makes an artificial night for himself. This mood of his will prove black and ominous, unless good advice can remove the reason for it.” She brushes her hand through her white locks, a sad frown placed on her features.

 

Crossing their arms, Pidge looks into Allura’s multicolored eyes and asks a question lingering on their tongue. “Do you know the reason?”

Allura shakes her head sadly. “I don’t know it, and I can’t find it out from him.” 

The King and Shiro bid goodbyes silently before leaving the scene quietly. Her Lady and Pidge stay behind to chat.

 

“My Lady, have you questioned him in any way?”

 

“I have, and many other friends have as well. But he’s so withdrawn, he keeps his thoughts to himself. He’s so secretive and so closed, so far from letting others understand him.” She shivers as a breeze passes through ruffling her blue dress softly. “He’s like a flower bud that’s being eaten by a spiteful worm before it can spread its petals open to the air or show its beauty to the sun. If we could find out why he’s so sad, we would just as willingly.”

 

The padding of footsteps sounds the quiet central square, making the two become alert with knowing.

 

Pidge turns to Allura and pushes her the opposite way out of the square. “Look he’s coming, if you please, step aside. I’ll find out what’s bothering him, unless he just refuses to tell me.”

 

She nods quietly and scampers off, running towards the carriage in sight.   
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
As the figure walks into the central square, he appears to be wearing a tight white blouse and hands caressing his inner pockets of his black jeans. His brown hair sways slightly, but it's well kept while a frown adorns his face. Pidge strides up to him with enthusiasm. 

“Good morning, cousin.”

Lance smiles sadly before answering. “Is the day that young?”

“The clock’s just struck nine.”

“Ah me! The hours seem long when you’re sad. Was that my mother who left so quickly?”

They nod. “It was. What sadness makes time seem so long for you, Lance?”

He sighs and motions Pidge to walk with him. “Not having that something which, if I had it, would make time seem short.”

 

“In love?”

 

“Out.” Lance answers.

 

“Of love?”

 

“Out of favor with the one I love.”

 

They cock their head solemnly, but pick up the pace in word choices. “Too bad that Cupid who looks so gentle, should be so harsh and rough in his actual behavior.”

“Too bad that Cupid, whose eyes are blindfolded, should see his targets without eyes.” Lance kicks a pebble and it flies through the air before hitting the nearest wall, making a clank sound.   
“Where shall we have dinner? Oh me! What caused the fight? Never mind, don’t tell me. I’ve heard it all. It’s a lot about hate, but more about love, created out of nothing! Oh heavy lightness! Serious foolishness! Grotesque confusion made of things that appear well formed. Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, wakeful sleep that isn’t sleep! I feel love but I feel no love from her.”

 

Pidge couldn’t help it, but burst out laughing. He was crazy, they thought. Absolutely crazy.

 

Lance pouted and punched their shoulder lightly. “Do you laugh at me?”

 

“No idiot, I’m crying.”

 

“Wow, at what?”

 

Still laughing, they pat Lance’s shoulder. “At your good heart’s pain.”

He huffs before sitting on the fountains ledge, hand resting upon his chin, deep in thought. Pidge sat beside him and nudged him to continue. 

 

“Well, that’s how love goes. My own grief, that lies heavy in my heart, will increase if you add your own to it. This love you’ve shown adds more grief to my already great quantity of it. Love is smoke made from the fumes of sighs. When it burns away, it’s a fire sparkling in lover’s eyes. When it’s troubled, it’s a see filled with lover’s tears. What else is it? A cautious madness, a bitter potion, a healing sweetness.” Lance stands up and begins to walk away sadly. “Goodbye, cousin.”

 

Angered, Pidge stands up and grabs his arm roughly. “God damn it Lance, you do me wrong if you leave me like this.”

 

He turns to meet the brunette and smiles. “Nonsense, I’ve lost myself. I’m not here with you. This isn’t the Lance you’ve known- he’s somewhere else I suppose.” 

“Tell me, seriously. Who do you love?” 

Lance narrows his eyes and looks at the ground. “What? Should I groan sorrowfully and tell you?”

Pidge themself groans and crosses their arms once more. “Groan? Why no. But seriously, tell me who it is or I swear-“

“Tell a sick man to make his will “seriously”? A poor choice of words to someone who’s so sick, who’s such a ‘serious case’. Serious dude, I love a woman.” He shoots back and makes a scrunched up face to the sound of it. He was in love with a woman, sure. But she had yet to love him back as so.

 

Pidge claps their hands excitedly and laughs out loud. “I was aiming at that target when I guessed you were in love.”

 

He nods and sighs, a grin spread onto his face. “She’s quite beautiful.” 

 

They lean in closer and smiles wider. “Well, a target that catches your eye is the easiest to hit!”

Lance nods and glances at the brick wall nearest to the two again deep in thought. He shrugs and turns away from Pidge. “Well this time you missed the target. She can’t be hit with Cupid’s arrows. She has the wisdom of the goddess Diana. She defends her virginity with strong armor, and Cupid’s weak little bow can’t come close to harming her. She resists sweet talk and loving looks. She won’t be won even by an amount of gold that would tempt a saint. Oh she’s rich in beauty! But she’s poor- only because when she dies, her beauty and fertility will die with her.”

 

Nodding vigoriously, Pidge taps their chin. “Then she has sworn to remain a virgin all her life?”

 

Lance chuckles darkly. “She has. And what a huge darn waste that is. Her beauty will be starved by her severe choice, and her virginity will cut off her beauty from all future generations that might inherit it. She is too beautiful and too wise to win a place in heaven by making me suffer. She has sworn never ever to love, and because of that vow, I’m in a state of living death, even as I live to talk about it now.”

 

Leaning in closer, Pidge snaps their fingers, trying to get his attention. “Listen to me Lance, forget about her.”

 

“Oh, teach me how to forget. It isn’t that easy. And I was lucky that my heart followed a girl for once, a girl.” He waved his hands in surprise. “Like when does that happen, I wanted to please mother, and tell her I am straight. But no Pidge, I gotta be bisexual. It drives me mad, because she won’t be accepting of it at all.”

 

They sigh. “Look around, look at other beautiful women, or aliens per say.”

 

“You know what?” Lance backs away and narrows his eyes accordingly. “Show me one person that is more beautiful than Nyma, when you do, hit me up. But for now, goodbye cousin. You can’t teach me how to forget.”

 

“I’ll teach you how to forget. I’ll teach you that lesson.” Pidge fixes their glasses and stares into Lance’s blue eyes. “Or else I would fail as your friend.”  
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	2. Act 1 Scene II/III

The usual bustling House of Sir Capulet was indeed a thought to think on. All of the servants were rushing, carrying plates of food and/ or cleaning surfaces. Shiro held high standards for a clean and neat environment, and it clearly showed in the everyday lives of the House.

Shiro entered noisily, causing the servants to stop scrubbing or moving to see what was going on. He sped through the house, with a well groomed alien walking along side him a smile adorned on his face. Next to the alien was a personal servant who seemed to be sweating a little too much and was shaking in anxiousness.

Shiro was pointing in different directions, explaining to the alien what would be happening at the party being held tonight, and what part he would be playing. The servants watched closely as the three Capulet’s strode around the marble flooring, walking almost in a full circle, continuing to chat amongst themselves. The highly attractive alien, was named Rolo, and was half related to King Alfor, so he was extremely wealthy in looks and money. He was invited to the House by Shiro himself, and not just for money purposes, but to please his son in one way or another. Rolo had approached his son a long time ago, and was shunned away almost instantly, but he decided to follow his heart to pay yet another visit to the House to maybe catch a glimpse of the purple eyed boy.

 

“A-and I don’t know what I will do.” Shiro started. “The Montague’s are bound by the ruling just as much as I am, with the same penalty. I don’t think it will be hard for men as old as us to keep the peace.”

 

Shrugging, Rolo walked alongside the man. “You both have reputations for honor. It’s a pity you have been at odds with each other for so long. But now my lord, what do you say about my suit to marry your son?”

 

The question made a smile appear on Shiro’s face for a second before flickering away. “I’ll say again what I’ve said before. My child is very young. Let two years pass before we think he’s ready for a commitment like that.” 

 

Shiro pulled up a chair for both the aliens and sat down on an ivory metal chair next to them. Hands cupping his face solemnly, his thoughts manouvoured back to when it had all happened. His son had appeared to him one rainy night in October a few years ago, explaining in long sentences about how he favored men over women and wouldn’t stop apologizing. Now in this day and age, being gay was noticed as a disease, and to whoever claimed to like the same gender would be put to death. But thankfully, Shiro was understanding and still loves his son to this day, and because of his wealth, nobody really bothered them about the matter.  
Never less, Rolo pushed on a little farther, curious of the man’s response. He leans back in his chair and stares at the table pattern placed in front of them.

 

“Boys younger than he are happy fathers.”

 

“And those who are made Father’s so early are soon ruined.” Shiro shot back, tick marks appearing on his forehead. “The grave has swallowed up all my children but him. He is the hope of my world. But woo him, gentle Rolo; win his heart. My wishes are not as important as his feelings. If he agrees, then I’ll grant my consent freely.” He motions to the servants hanging streamers from the ceiling as well as the food platters already being made in the kitchen.“ Tonight I’m having a party, one that I customarily hold. I have invited many friends, and you are invited as well. You will be a most welcome addition.”

Rolo glances at Shiro before smiling politely, showing his array of perfect white teeth. He urges the man to continue explaining.

“Tonight at my humble house, plan to see women as beautiful as the stars that light up the dark heavens and that have come down on earth. Tonight, the sight of these fresh female flower buds will give you as much pleasure as young men feel when April appears on the heels of a tired winter, wearing her best spring dress. Hear them all, see them all. And after seeing so many, my son, being one of them, may turn out to be your number one. Now come with me.”

Shiro stands up swiftly and reaches into his coat pocket to take out a sealed envelope covered in red. He hands it to the servant who had been following the two the entire afternoon. “Servant, go around beautiful Verona and find those people whose names are written on the list. Tell them I would welcome the pleasure of their company at my house. Come Rolo, let me show you the rest of the estate.”

 

As the two nod in the servant’s direction, they make their way out of the room which to have been seated at. Once gone, the man nervously opens the envelope and almost faints on the spot. 

“Find those people whose names are written here? They say that the shoemaker should keep to his yardstick, the tailor to his shoe form, the fisherman to his pencil, and the painter to his nets. But I’m sent to find people whose names are written here, even though I cannot read what names the writer wrote down. I must ask someone who’s learned to read.”

 

The servant decides to go out into town, to find someone who could read the foreign words written on the paper. It wasn’t his fault after all, he was raised poorly and was never taught to read nor write. There wasn’t much of a crowd out in Verona this afternoon, even thought the events of the morning had ruffled everyone, and that was a disadvantage to the poor servant. Who would be able to even spare a couple minutes with him?

 

Not sure on who to pick, the loud voices of two young men catch his attention, making his eyes widen in excitement. Maybe they’d help him.

 

And of course the servant not knowing who is the enemy and who isn’t, decides to go up to Pidge and Lance. The only stray Montague’s in the central square. 

 

“Look man!” Pidge motions to Lance excitedly. “One fire burns out another fire. One pain is lessened by another pain. When you’re dizzy from turning, you can fix it by turning in reverse. A desperate grief is cured by another grief. So with love. If you get a new infection in your sight, the poison of the old infection will die!”

“The plantain leaf is excellent for that.” He sighs grimly.

“For what?”

“For your broken shin.”

“Lance! Have you gone mad?”

Scoffing slightly, he turns to glance at the servant quickly approaching before ignoring him. “No, I’m not mad. But I’m tied up more tightly than a madman is. I’m shut up in prison, kept without food, whipped and tormented, and- Good afternoon, good fellow!” 

To the change in his tone of voice, Pidge turns to see the servant before them, a smile etched onto his features. To say the least, he looked relieved.

Looking back at Lance for instructions, Pidge makes a face signaling confusion. 

Lance motions to go along with the intruder before meeting the man’s eyes once more and smiling.

 

“And God give you a good afternoon. Tell me sir, can you read?” He hands the red envelope to Lance and waits patiently for his response.

 

“Yes, I can read my own miserable future in the misery I suffer now.”

 

“Perhaps you’ve learned without a book. But tell me, can you read anything you see?”

Lance nods and reads the names written in the small cursive print. 

“Signor Martino and his wife and daughters;  
Count Anselm and his beautiful sisters;  
The lady widow of Utruvio;  
Signor Placentio and his lovely nieces;  
Pidge and his brother Valentine;  
My uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters;  
My fair niece Nyma and Livia;  
Signor Valentino and his cousin Rax;  
Lucio and the lively Helena.”

When he finishes reading, he looks up with a small knowing smirk and winks at Pidge. “A pleasant group, where shall they go?”

“Up.” The now relieved servant replies.

 

“Up? To supper?”

 

“To our house.”

 

This got Lance’s attention and he continued to question the man. “Whose house?”

 

“My master’s.”

 

“Yes!” He snapped his fingers and nodded. “I should have asked you that before!”

He handed the envelope back to the man while nudging the concerned Pidge. They looked into Lance’s eyes and raised a brow in annoyance.

 

“Now I’ll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet. And if you aren’t from the House of Montague, then please come and drink a cup of wine. Have a good day!” 

As the servant thanked them once more, he scurried off in search of the people written on the red envelope. Once out of sight entirely, Pidge groaned knowingly but insisted on his cousin’s pleas.

“The beautiful Nyma whom you love so much will dine at this feast of Capulet’s, along with all the most beautiful women in Verona. Go to the feast, and with an objective eye, compare her face with some others that I’ll show you. I’ll make you think your swan is really a crow!” 

He chuckled at the statement. “Someone more beautiful than my love? The all-seeing sun has never seen anyone as beautiful since the world first began!” Running a hand through his hair, Lance smiled at the grayish sky above. “Why won’t she love me so I wonder.”

“Look, you saw her as beautiful because there was no one else to compare to her. She alone was balanced against herself in both your eyes, but use your eyes to weigh your lady against some other gorgeous girl that I’ll show you at this feast. The girl you find attractive now will seem barely passable, even though she seems like the best.” Pidge spoke swiftly getting their point across. He needed to get his mind on something else.

“I’ll go-not to see what you have to show, but to rejoice in the splendor of Nyma.” Lance crossed his arms while staring at Pidge, his lids half open.

They smiled at Lance, and punched his shoulder again. “Then let us celebrate! Come cousin, let’s go to your dressing room and prepare for what the night has in store for us.”

“Okay, but the only reason I’m going is for her.” Pidge smirked and picked up their pace, teasing him along the way even to Lance’s protests. Soon enough, the two boys walked in the direction of the Montague House, while thinking of what the night really had in store for them. Lance grinned to himself, hoping to meet someone special.

 

Someone really special.

\----------------------------------------------------  
“Keith!”

 

A frantic Shiro walks in, hair ruffled and a frown rested upon his face. Something was clearly bothering him and the servants serving in that room, stopped to stare at the situation unfolding.

“Nurse, where’s my son? Call him to me.”

The Nurse, named Shay, pads forward and rests her hands upon her hips shaking her head slowly. “I told him to come, God forbid that something’s wrong. Where is that boy?”

 

Silence engulfed the grand room before a crash like sound pierced the air, causing heads to turn in the direction of where it came from. A disoriented, yet nimble boy sprints into the room and stops just before hitting the vase of red roses on the table before him. Slowly, he turns to face his father and the Nurse with an annoyed expression, silence still gripping everyone. 

 

Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose before glaring at the starstruck maids. Snapping out of their shock, they quickly grab the nearest cleaning supplies and continue to scrub the floors vigorously. 

Keith, being the only child of the Capulet family, and a ‘done with everyone’s shit’ kind of personality, he truly stood out from all the others. Known for almost always being late to everything, he put on a mask of ‘I don’t care’ almost daily. His father, Shiro was concerned about how he didn’t care about everything he cared about, and that didn’t sum up of all of their father/son disputes. 

 

“What is it?” Keith asks while brushing off dust on his shirt.

 

“This is what,” Shiro grumbles. “Nurse, leave us a while; we must talk privately.” Shay nods and starts to walk away before he speaks again. 

 

“Nurse, come back again. I’ve thought of something else, you’ll hear our conversation. You know my son is of a pretty age.”

“Certainly, I can tell his age to the hour.” She replies sweetly.

Keith awkwardly stands in the room, not sure of what to do with the words his father had spoken of. He was never good with discussions like this, and didn’t want to begin the habit of being in them.

 

“Getting married is the very thing I came to talk about. Tell me son, how do you feel about getting married?”

 

A wave of shock hit Keith through his body as he processed what his father had just said to him, and he grew paler by the minute. Deep down, his first instinct was to run away from his problems and dismiss anyone who came to disturb him. But instead, Keith decided standing up for what he believed in was the best choice of action.

 

“I-It’s an honor that I don’t even dream of.” 

 

“An honor! He’s abundant with wisdom surly, but at such a young age is remarkable.” Shay piped up.

Shiro ran a hand through his hair and thought of a different approach to the matter. “Well, think of marriage now. Younger men than you, high-born men, are already fathers here in Verona. By my count, I was your father at just about the age that you are currently.”

 

Taking a deep breath, he chose his next set of words very carefully. “So, to be brief-the noble Rolo wishes you for your hand in marriage.”

 

Keith couldn’t speak. He was, by definition, speechless. Rolo? The purple alien Rolo? His face paled even more, making his heart rate go up the charts, all while Shay clapped excitedly with a huge smile on her features.

“ A young man! Boy, such a man as the whole world, why he’s a man of such perfection, as if he were made of wax!”

“You won’t find such a flower even in Verona’s summer.” Shiro added.

“Yes, he’s a flower. In truth, a flower!” Shay winked at Keith’s dying expression.

He covered his face with his hands, his fingerless gloves touching his pale face. Was he even alive? Is this some dream that when you wake up, everything is okay?

 

Probably not.

 

Shiro walked over to Keith and pats his back with encouragement. “What do you say? Can you love this gentlemen? Tonight, you’ll see him at our party. Examine his face closely, as if it were a book. You’ll find that the contents are delightfully attractive! Examine every feature. See how each one tells a part of the story. If anything is unclear in this lovely book, look into his eyes for the notes that explain-“

 

Keith soon tunes out his father’s rambling and instead focuses on the ivory patterns displayed on the wall in front of him. It twists from beneath the table to the ceiling, making his eyes wonder how he ever got into this situation in the first place. He wasn’t ready for marriage, or love per say. To say the least, love scared Keith. He wanted nothing to do with it, and wished to whichever Gods were listening, that it would stay that way. He was only a young man never less, and he had so much of his life to look forward to. Sure there were hormones, but there were enough things to distract him.

 

“-In the same way, you’ll share all his qualities by marrying him. You won’t be the less for it.” Shiro finishes with a sigh of approval, and not knowing his son didn’t catch half of his proposition. 

Shay walks up to Keith and grasps his hand in hers whilst she continues talking. “Not less? No-bigger.”

“Tell me briefly: Can you like the thought of Rolo’s love?” Shiro asks, hand still on his son’s back.

Taking a deep breath, he thinks long and hard of what his response should be. If he says no, he’d surly be punished and still be thrown into the marriage one way or another, if he says yes- why would he say yes. Shiro wouldn’t put up with Keith’s antics today, so instead of defying him, he decides to go with the safer route this time around.

 

“If looking at him makes me like him, then I shall. But I won’t look any deeper than you give me permission to.”

 

Good answer, he thought. Maybe his dad would get off his back a little bit and leave him alone for ten minutes. Then he’d have a good day, but of course because of Shiro’s protectiveness, it was hard enough to let him leave the estate. Keith always wanted to go into town all by himself, but his father forbid him from doing so, leaving him frustrated. Trying to do things by himself were declared impossible, and thankful to Shay, he got little to no alone time. 

Keith liked Shay however, she was there for him when his father wasn’t, cooked for him, made sure he was okay, and always gave him advice. She was a Balmara, a type of native alien species that sprouted in Verona, one that was respected to great lengths. When the Capulet estate first originated, his father had searched everywhere to find someone to take care of Keith when he couldn’t. Shiro had come across Shay when looking, and grew a direct interest for her, hiring her on the spot and offering a home to stay in as a plus. She stayed with Keith throughout his childhood and into his teenage years. And because of all the time they spent together, saying that she knew almost everything about him was a huge understatement. 

 

Feeling eyes onto his face, Keith’s eyes jerk upwards to find his father snapping fingers in front of him several times. “My son what is on your mind?”

 

Before Keith could sputter anything of the matter, an alien servant rushed in, holding another red envelope. He stops in front of Shiro and places it into the palms of his hands. 

“Sir, the guests are here; supper is served. They’re calling for you and the young man. The Nurse is being cursed in the pantry, and everything is in confusion. I must go wait on the tables. Please come right away.”

Nodding off to the urgent message, Shiro thanks the servant quickly and sends him to wait the tables. He turns to Keith and motions for him to follow. “Keith, the count is waiting.”

“Go on,” Shay insists with a warm smile, pushing him towards the door. “Look for happy nights, and they’ll make happy days.” He could feel the room getting smaller by the passing seconds, and needed to escape from this discussion immediately.

 

Grabbing Shay’s hand, Keith sprints into the next room frantically and slams the door even to her protests. He backs up against the wooden surface and slides down to the floor dramatically. Covering up his face once again, groans fill the small dressing room. 

 

“Keith? What’s the matter-“

 

“Marriage? He’s really gone off the deep end hasn’t he? I can’t do this Shay, I’m so young, not ready for a commitment like that. You know me so well, can’t you see how afraid I am?” Keith manages to sputter out before muttering an ‘oh my god’. 

 

Shay widens her eyes at the frail and exposed boy before her. Not knowing exactly what to do, she walks up to him and sits down onto the floor silently. Keith uncovers his face and looks at the Balmara with a raise brow. “What am I to do?”

 

Shrugging, Shay crosses her arms with a pout. “Listen to your father Keith. He knows not what you know or like, but following his orders is the appropriate thing to do.”  
“I just want to be alone. And not be bothered by this love you speak of,” he rants loudly. “Is that too much to ask? And it’s already risky because I’m gay and it’s apparently a crime to like men. I won’t be marrying a nice girl or lady anytime soon so you can quit holding your breath for me to change-“

 

Before any other harsh words were spoken of, Shay pulls Keith into an embrace shutting him up. It was majorly awkward but a few seconds in, he returned the hug with open arms. 

Pulling back, Shay grasps Keith’s shoulders and smiles. “I’ll talk to him if Rolo isn’t the right person for you. But give him a chance, you never truly know.”

 

He smiled back. 

 

It was rare for him to smile, his engraved frown that he always wore sometimes got to people. But Shay was one of the only people who knew of that smile, the way his eyes crinkled together and how his cheeks glowed slightly. The way his eyebrows shot up and the sound of his faint laugh from time to time.

 

Gosh more people needed to see this, she thought.

 

Shay stood up and offered a hand to the now smiling Keith. “Come on, your father is expecting us.”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
It was finally the evening of the Capulet party. Fireworks filled the indigo like sky, whilst people danced out into the streets, acting like the drinks had already hit them.  
Nearest to the Capulet estate, Lance and his companions were camped out behind a boulder, deciding how to exactly get into the party in the most casual sense. 

 

“Well, shall we give the usual formal speech, or just go on without an excuse?” Lance inquired while fitting his dark blue feathery mask onto his face. He picked out a light blue long sleeve, button up with cuffs on the end to wear, and thought he looked rather dashing.

 

Pidge, next to him grumbled something about being ‘too short’ before realizing he had spoken. “This is too out of date. In our masking routine, let’s have no blindfolded Cupid carrying a wooden bow and scaring the ladies like a scarecrow. And let’s not make our entrance with memorized speeches. Let them judge us however they want. We’ll have a dance and then leave immediately.” They were dressed in a green blouse with black slacks, and carrying a dark green ivory mask to wear later that evening. 

 

Lance’s best friend, Hunk, who’d been listening quite intently, leaned against the rock behind him. He carried a yellow mask with feathers off to the sides, and wore a golden button up blouse with cuffs. 

“Let me carry a torch. I’m not once for this posing and posturing dance. Since I’m so heavy-hearted, I’ll carry the light.” Lance offered with haste.

 

This got Hunk’s attention and he pushed himself off the wall to walk right up to Lance. “No, gentle Lance, you must dance!” Chuckling slightly, the brown haired boy shook his head in disagreement. 

 

“Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes with light stepping soles. I have a soul of lead that holds me to this ground so that I cannot move.”

 

“But you’re in love!” He motioned with his hands dramatically to get the point across. “Borrow Cupid’s wings and soar high above the ground!”

 

“I’m too sore from being wounded by his arrow to soar on such light feathers as his. I’m so weighted down that I can’t leap higher than my own sorrow. I’m sinking under the heavy burden of love.” Lance looks away before sighing into the night sky.

 

Pidge sat onto the grass and contemplated whether to leave the two alone to sort things out or to stay and offer advice of what to do. They looked at Hunk patting Lance on the back with encouragement and decided to stay to give support.

“But when you sink in love, you become a burden to love-too great a burden for such a tender thing to carry.” Hunk offered.

 

Carefully adjusting the blue mask, Lance thinks over his friend’s words. “Is love a tender thing? It’s too rough, too rude, too quarrelsome. It pricks like a thorn.”

 

“If love is rough with you, then you be rough with love!” He says enthusiastically making Pidge roll their eyes. “Prick love back for pricking you, and you’ll beat love down. Give me a mask to cover my face: a mask for my ugly face. What do I care if curious eyes stare at the deformities?”

 

Lance raises a brow. “Dude, you’re not ugly, you’re pretty good looking to me.”

 

“He’s right.” Pidge pipes in. “And how about we knock on the door and we’ll go in. As soon as we’re inside, every man shall start dancing.”

Nodding, Lance grabs the torch hanging on a post. “As for me, I’ll carry the torch. Let you lighthearted people tickle the carpet with your heels. I’ll be the candle holder and just watch. The party’s at its brightest and the most colorful now, but I feel like the color dun-drab and gray.”

“Fine. But if you see your love Nyma, you go after her.” Hunk sends Lance a knowing look and continues to mess with his yellow mask.

 

“I dreamed a dream last night.” He says suddenly.

 

“So did I my friend.” Hunk replies suspiciously.

 

Lance perks up, and turns his body towards him. “Well, what was yours?”

 

Hunk turns to face Lance and the now curious Pidge with a grand smile on his face. “I dreamt of a fairy, called Queen Mab. She’s the fairy that brings men’s fantasies to life. She comes in a shape no bigger than a gemstone on the finger of an alderman. A team of tiny creatures draws her chariot over men’s noses whilst they sleep. Then the men and women while they sleep, dream of things. She then rides her chariot over them and brings the dreams to life or punishes if it’s sinful. Sometimes she drives over a soldier’s neck. Then he dreams of cutting enemies’ throats, of breaking through enemies’ defenses, of ambushes, Spanish swords, long drinking bouts. And then she drums in his ear, and he wakes up frightened. He swears a few words of prayer before going back to sleep-“

 

“Stop, stop, Hunk!” Lance holds up his hands and covers his ears while closing his eyes. “Be quiet! You’re talking of nonsense.”

 

“True, I talk of dreams, which are indeed ridiculous. They are made of nothing but foolish fantasy, which is as thin as air, more changeable than the wind, which first blows toward the frozen north-and then, becoming angry, turns away and blows toward the rainy south.” He finishes with a sigh.

Pidge paces back and forth, fiddling with their green shirt. “The wind you talk of blows us away from our plans. Supper’s over, and we’re going to arrive too late.”

Hunk nods and begins to pack his coat and mask into a bag before being stopped by Lance reaching out and grabbing his shoulder. Looking over his shoulder, he gives Lance a questioning look.

 

“Too early, I’m afraid.” He begins. “I have a strange feeling that something, influenced by the stars, is about to happen. It will begin it’s bitter course with tonight’s festivities. It will end my hateful life by the evil of an early death. But, God, who guides my life, will direct my path. Let’s go, gentlemen.”

 

Pidge and Hunk share a look of concern before shrugging it off completely. They all start off to the Capulet estate in high hopes of having a fun and memorable night. Putting on their masks of colors, the group of three prays that nothing distinct or dangerous will happen to them. 

 

Lance continues to hold the torch, gripping it tightly, mostly hoping that he meets someone who changes his life. Someone other than Nyma. 

 

Probably not, he thinks, smiling rather to himself than at anyone around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter woot woot, hope you all enjoy :)   
> My tumblr : https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angelcks


	3. Act 1 Scene V

The Capulet’s house was remarkable, spectacular, and any other adjective that could describe the scene in front of the three masked friends. They stood still in front of the entrance, speechless and in awe. 

Red was blatantly everywhere, on tables, walls, and clothes. Almost everyone wore some assortment of the color, showing the representation of the Capulet’s. Servants were everywhere, serving or cleaning a surface, and the people who made up the crowd in the center of the giant ballroom made the three boys feel small. Adults were scattered in different directions, drinking or swaying along to the subtle beat in the background, making Lance want to dance. Even if it was for a couple minutes, just thinking about moving his body along to the music, made his stomach churn.

Slowly, the three friends walk up to the front desk, where the guests are to be checked in for the night. A small man crowded the surface, flipping papers wildly, having no interest in whoever was present before him. Men, women, and aliens formed a narrow line in front of the desk, chattering to themselves or laughing in their public conversations. Lance turned around to look at the decorations displayed onto the wall, and sighed. It really was beautiful.

Pidge readjusted their mask quickly before shuffling in place. They had used contacts instead of their original glasses because of how bulky the mask fit on their face. Hunk smiled at the two before looking around again as well. The ceiling was displayed with golden chandeliers, the dangling glass shining off the reflective lights shone on the wall. It was like a scene from a movie, where everything was prepared beautifully and the crowd goes ‘wow’.

As the line slowly moved, it finally got to the group. The man who was flipping out earlier at the desk, seemed rather calm and was focused on the guest list, not taking his eyes off the paper.

Lance contemplated whether to get his attention, or to simply wait until the man was finished with whatever he was busy doing. Glancing at Pidge, he raises a brow at them. Hunk stared back and shrugs in response. 

 

A few moments later, the man finally looked up and smiled. “Hello gentlemen, names?”

 

“Pidge, and his cousin Valentino.” Lance responds.

 

Thankfully, the man was too distracted to see Hunk quietly walk behind him and slip into the party unnoticed. He makes a face at the two in front of the desk, causing Lance and Pidge to chuckle slightly.

Looking up from the guest list for the fourth time, the man nods for them to enter and scribbles something onto the paper. 

As the three unite once again, Hunk and Pidge quickly race to the beverage table making Lance laugh loudly at their immaturity. He soon follows the two near the elegant red drink table, and leans against the ledge, looking around the people scattered around them. “So, see anyone catch your attention yet?”

Pidge chokes on the cup of punch they were drinking, causing Hunk to sputter out laughing at the reaction. Lance soon joins in, covering his mouth trying to stay quiet. 

Finally recovering, Pidge wipes their mouth with a red napkin. “No.”

Hunk slaps their back a little too hard and smiles. “One day my friend, one day.”

Tearing his gaze away from his friends, his eyes catch two men talking quite loudly, catching some attention from several spectators. Lance shushes his friends and motions towards the men making the commotion. 

 

“Where’s Potpan, who should be helping to clear the tables? What, him? Pick up a dish? Him? Scrape a plate?”

 

The second man shakes his head sadly before yelling at the first servant. “It’s a terrible thing when good work habits fall to one or two man’s hands, and those unwashed, too!” 

 

Pidge stared directly at the first man before turning to Lance. “What are they yelling about?”

Before he could manage to say anything else, the first man spoke again, this time ordering the other servants with a harsh tone. “Put away the stools. Remove the sideboard. Take care of the silverplate. Good fellow, save me a piece of the dessert, marzipan. And do something for me: Tell the porter to let in Susan Grindstone and Neil.”

 

Over the lightly playing of violins, the echoes of fast approaching footsteps sounds throughout the grand room. A well dressed alien arrives, looking exhausted. “Here, fellow! I’m ready!”

 

The servant directing the others turns towards the alien and immediately lights up. “People are looking and calling for you in the great hall!” he shouts. 

 

The one named Potpan nods directly and starts to walk away. “We can’t be here and there too. Cheer up, fellows! Be happy while you can, and whoever lives the longest takes all!”  
And at that, the two aliens rush away, shouting words at each other until fully exiting the ballroom. 

 

Hunk swivels around to the punch bowl and pours himself another cup, wondering to himself if he could ask someone for this recipe and possibly get away with it. He turns to Lance and nudges his shoulder. “You see Nyma anywhere?” 

 

Lance sighs loudly and shrugs. “Yeah, but she was dancing with someone else, didn’t wanna bother her.”

 

Adjusting their mask for the hundredth time, Pidge snorts. “It’s time you take your mind away from her, you sound absolutely miserable cousin, look around and bask in the glory of someone else.” Biting back a retort, Lance decides on pouting at the demand. It wasn’t his fault that this was happening to him, he didn’t even want to be here.

Suddenly, the noise of the music and people slowly dies away, fading into a suspenseful silence. The three boys turn their heads to see the head of the Capulet’s family standing at the foot of the stairs, holding a glass of wine. He clinks the glass with a spoon twice, before handing it to the servant next to him. He takes a deep breath and begins a speech.  
“Welcome, gentlemen! Ladies who don’t have corns on their toes will have a dance with you. Aha, my ladies! Which of you will now refuse to dance? If one of you acts coy, I’ll swear she has a problem! Have I persuaded you? Welcome, gentleman. I’ve seen the day when I have worn a mask and could whisper sweet words into a beautiful girl’s ear that would delight her. But that time is gone, it’s gone, it’s gone. You are welcome, gentlemen. Come, musicians, play! We need the hall. Clear the room! Now go on girls.”

After his last bits of words, the entire ballroom lit up with candles all at once, and fierce applause rang out overhead. Hunk smiled as the music began to play once again, the string section harmonizing beautifully. As the song played, Pidge clapped their hands, excited to know the melody. 

 

“Carmen Suite Nr.2! I love this one.”

 

Hunk nodded while turning to Lance, the thrill getting to him. “Come my friend, let us dance!”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“More light you dunces! Fold up the tables. Put out the fire; the room is getting too hot!” Shiro directed, stepping down from the stairwell near the small eating area. “Aha, these unexpected maskers come at a good time!” He walks towards one of the tables and smiles at the sight of his cousin. After the hugs and welcoming, he motions for the guest to sit onto a chair while sitting down himself. “Sit down, sit down good cousin Capulet. You and I are past our dancing days. How long has it been since you and I have worn masks?”

 

Shiro’s cousin chuckled at the question and sighs. “By Our Lady-twenty years!”

 

“What, man? It hasn’t been that long! Not that long! It was the wedding of Lucentio, come Pentecost Sunday, about fifteen years ago. We masked then!” Shiro laughs.

 

Shaking his head in amusement, the cousin laughs louder. “It’s more, it’s more. His son is older than that, sir. His son is twenty!”

 

“Don’t tell me that!” Shiro pouts. “His son was just a child three years ago!”

 

The table breaks into fits of laughter, drawing some attention. Slapping his cousin on the back, Shiro takes his eyes off the man for a moment and looks to the left, spotting Keith approaching down the stairs. 

He was dressed in a red long sleeve dress shirt, wearing a mask covered in a darker redder shade. His black mullet covering his neck, and it added to the color scheme of the entire outfit. 

Shiro smiled at the sight of his son all dressed up, capturing the moment in his mind. In reality, he looked perfectly handsome, and Shiro truly wished he could have the guts to tell him in person how he looked this night. If he ever had any courage left to spare.

Turning back to the group of friends, Shiro poured himself some more wine, and continued the conversation where it was left off.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Hunk is a dancing machine, I swear. Where did he learn to waltz like that?” Pidge scratches their chin in question.

Shrugging, Lance sips some of the punch calmly. “I sure wish I knew, because he’s teaching us right when we return home.”

Pidge laughed while feeling the feathers to their mask. “I’m not so good at dancing, but I feel as if I should go try.” Lance nods, a light bulb popping up in his head. Setting his drink on the table next to them, he pushed his cousin out into the open ballroom with no warning, catching them off guard.

Pidge squeals after stopping themselves, and turned around to face Lance, blushing red with embarrassment.

“Go have fun my friend.” He waves mockingly and laughs as Pidge gets caught up in a conga line.

“I swear to-“They try to yell but the line has pushed them into a more complex dance, causing the conversation to end abruptly. Finally giving in, Pidge meets up with Hunk in the middle and starts to dance alongside with each other. The crowd getting a kick out of the two, joins in just as the music sped up.

 

Watching from afar, Lance strides off, looking at all the decorations in amazement. Sure, he despised the Capulet’s in every way possible, but gosh, they were talented in creating such an atmosphere for an event like this. Streamers hung from the ceiling, adding to the already sparkling chandeliers, and confetti was everywhere. Women, men, aliens, and others were dressed in colors of many, mostly red because of their house, but there was still a variety. He looked over the crowd, curious of who was present, and wondered if he would recognize anyone.

 

Self conscious of being recognized himself, Lance tugged onto his mask, pulling it down across his nose. He couldn’t be spotted, if so the plan itself would be a disaster. Trying to be smart, he stuck to his gut on staying on the outskirts of the ballroom, not moving an inch towards the middle. That way nobody would truly recognize his face.

 

Lance wondered around a little more, before coming across a giant fish tank. It was huge in size, and there was an abundance of fish scattered here and there throughout it. Decorations were littered inside the tank, creating a nice visual setting for the animals or some sort of home for the fish to live in.  
Wanting to get a better look, Lance crept forward, not wanting to draw a lot of attention, and gazed at the multicolor fish.  
His blue eyes followed a particular yellow one, watching how it swam back and forth like it was a race against the others. The fish then swam and hid behind a gray rock, confusing its colorful friends. Lance laughed softly at the fish’s behavior before his eyes following a green one, watching it backflip slowly underwater and continuing on its race. He bent down to look at the coral and unexpectedly looked into someone else’s eyes instead.

 

Purple?

 

Startled, he took a step back, straightening his body to its original posture. Lance blinked many times before meeting the person’s eyes once again.

 

His breath hitched at the sight. 

 

The person whom he’d been staring at, and who was still staring at, was a man. He wore no mask, but it lay above his collarbone calmly, and had a head full of black hair. His purple eyes glowed off the glass’s reflection, staring into Lance’s blue ones.

From Keith’s point of view, the boy on the other side of the tank who had his lips parted slightly in awe, was one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen. He had grown speechless, and awkwardly stared back into the blue eyes of the boy, also in wonder. Keith finally looked away, staring at the ground for a moment, and then meeting the direct line of eye contact again. 

Lance tore off his blue mask, sweat dripping off his face from the heat of the candles, not breaking the view of the boy once. Without thinking, he leaned forward until his nose bumped against the glass, scaring some fish in the process. Keith giggled at the sight of his frustration before leaning into the glass himself, wanting to get closer. 

Like a mirror, the two boys walked in the same direction for a couple steps before stopping, staring into each others eyes. 

 

As if time stopped, Lance smiled at him, making Keith’s heart skip a beat.

 

Keith looked into Lance’s eyes and smiled back, feeling his cheeks heat up at the action. Who was this boy? He wondered, but didn’t do anything about it. They stood there, ignoring all outside distractions, and continued smiling at one another.

 

A sudden grip on Keith’s shoulder shattered the moment he was having with this beautiful stranger, he was pulled back and met face to face with Shay. She glanced at his flushed cheeks and raised a brow but said nothing about the matter. Instead she waved a hand in front of his face, getting his attention. “Come with me, your father calls for you!”

Shay didn’t even wait for a response, instead dragging his hand alongside hers impatiently. Protesting, Keith pulled back annoyed and was able to look at Lance’s dumbfounded face one more time before being swept away by her death grip.

Lance stood there for a couple seconds star struck, not knowing exactly how to react. He had just eye-fucked a stranger like it was the most normal thing in the world.  
But what was worse, was that he liked it.

He couldn’t get that image out of his head, the one with the boy’s blown pupils staring into his own passionately. His mouth parted slightly, hair strewn over his sweaty face, and that smile on his lips. Meanwhile Lance realized he was standing in the middle of the party, and the pretty stranger he had just encountered had left. 

Hanging the mask around his neck momentarily, Lance ran in the direction he had gone off to. Lance scanned the rooms quickly, before finally spotting the black haired boy in the crowd down below, dancing with someone of his age. 

He smiled at the sight, before locking eyes with a furious Rax from across the room. Realizing his mask had been off and the disguise he’d been wearing was now revealed, Lance swiftly made his way down to the ballroom dance floor, trying to avoid the pissed off Capulet.

“By the sound of his voice, I think this is a Montague. Get me my sword boy,” Rax yells at the nearest servant. “How dare that lowlife come here, wearing a hideous mask to mock and make fun of our festivities? Now by my ancestors and my family’s honor, I wouldn’t call it a sin to strike him dead!” 

Gulping, Lance continues to move slowly near a plant and hides behind its tall shoots. 

As Rax spits out more words of death threats a little too loudly, Shiro hears the commotion and makes his way over to his relative. “Well hello, my kinsman! What’s making you so angry?” 

“Uncle, this is a Montague , our enemy, ” Rax grumbles, pointing in the wrong direction where Lance was located, making him smirk. “He’s the villain who’s come here to be spiteful and to mock our occasion tonight!” 

 

Shiro looks where he was pointing, suspicion etched on his features. “Young Lance, is it?”

 

“That’s him, that villain Lance.”

 

“Calm down, gentle cousin,” the Capulet reassures. “Let him alone. He’s behaving himself like a real gentleman. And to tell the truth, Verona brags about him as a virtuous and well-behaved youth. I would not be impolite to him in my house for all the wealth of this town. So be patient, and ignore him.”

Lance had to cover his mouth to stop from laughing out loud, giving away his hiding spot in the process. Shiro? Defending him? This was certainly new, because the look on Rax’s face was fuming with anger.

“It’s a suitable expression when such a villain is a guest. I won’t endure him being here any longer!”

 

Shiro bit back his loud tone, instead using a less harsh one. “He shall be endured! Who do you think you are, boy? I say he shall!” Rax widens his eyes, backing up slightly until his back hits the wall nearest to them. “Well! Am I the master here or are you? Well now! You won’t endure him! God save my soul, you’ll cause a riot among my guests. You’ll prance around boasting! You’ll be the man!”

 

Shiro’s ranting caught people’s attention, mostly servants who looked as nervous as Rax. 

 

“Why uncle, it’s shameful!” Rax insisted furiously.

 

“This behavior may get you in trouble, I can tell you. You’re going to cross me? Well it’s time-“

 

As Shiro yelled at Rax to chill out, Lance breathed out a sigh of relief. He stood up and brushed off some dust that had attached to his blue shirt. Scanning the ballroom, he searched for the boy he’d seen earlier finding himself thinking of him as dangerously attractive.

 

It’s like he was drawn to him, in the worst way possible. 

 

As the song that was currently being played ended, the strings settled on a slower paced melody, making some couples come together to dance. Lance circled around one of the giant pillars in the room, spotting Keith walking in the exact direction of where he was standing.

He hid behind the surface, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As Keith passed by the pillar, Lance took the rare chance by reaching and grabbing his hand, pulling him into his chest. 

Keith squeaked loudly but was shushed by Lance, smoothly turning him around to face each other. 

Time stopped again, the two of them staring into each other’s eyes like they couldn’t get enough. But this time Lance placed his hands on Keith’s hips, swaying along to the soft beat of the music in the background, keeping time. The shadows of the pillar casted down over them, creating an isolated area with hardly anyone around, minus the small chatter from across the room.

Realizing the other wanted to dance, Keith awkwardly placed his hands onto Lance’s arms and moved his body slowly, looking anywhere but his blue eyes.

 

Taking Keith’s hand, Lance touched it with his own and stared into his eyes with passion. “Hi.”

 

Gulping, Keith feels himself blushing. “Hi.”

 

“If I defile this holy shrine with my unworthy hand, then the gentler sin will be this: My lips, like two blushing pilgrims, stand ready to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” Lance drags his words, glancing at the boy’s lips time to time.

“Good pilgrim, you do your hand too much wrong.” Keith snickers, pulling Lance’s body closer to his, but still keeping a respectful distance. “Your hand is showing pious devotion. The statues of saints have hands that pilgrims touch with their own hands. Placing a palm on the saint’s palm is the holy pilgrim’s kiss.” 

Lance tilts his head in confusion, hands gripping to the other’s hips possessively. Rolling his eyes but still smiling, Keith takes one of Lance’s hands and holds it in the air, placing his own against his, both their hands lingering against one another. They stay like that for a while; dancing along with the slow music harmonizing in the background, just staring and having some sort of physical contact on one another.

Mouth parted slightly, Lance danced with Keith the entire time, throwing banter back and forth, desperate to know more, anything about him. “Don’t saints have lips, and don’t holy pilgrims have them too?”

Nodding, Keith twirls to the music, still holding onto Lance’s hand. “Yes, pilgrim. Lips that they must use in prayer.”

“Well then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray: “Grant me a kiss, or my faith may turn to despair.” Lance replies. He stops swaying suddenly, leaning in to touch Keith’s face, his fingertips caressing his pale skin suggestively. 

Keith leans into the touch, finding himself close his eyes softly before realizing what kind of situation he was in. Opening his eyes and looking away, he pushes himself off the boy, stepping back. “I don’t even know your name.”

 

“Who cares,” Lance persuades, leaning in once again, his hands finding Keith’s hips. “Does it really matter?”

 

Keith’s cheeks glow a bright red as he speaks, hanging onto every word with delicacy. Did it matter? Who really was this man, and why the fuck was Keith drawn to him in such a way?

“Saints don’t move, but they do grant prayers.” He whispered, eyes studying Lance’s face, not daring to look away.

If the distance between them could’ve gotten any closer together, Keith pulled even nearer. Their chests were touching by now, blown pupils looking at each other’s features, mapping out every freckle, eyelash, and color. 

Lance’s eyes closed halfway, their noses almost touching, and the staring, was all too much for Keith to handle. Feeling as if he was about to explode, he wanted to stop tasting air and start tasting tongue. The thought of kissing this stranger made his already rising hormones want to burst.

Cupping Keith’s face, Lance leaned in painfully slow, stopping just before their lips touched and breathed out a sigh. “Then don’t move, while I receive the benefits of my prayer.”  
Not being able to control his self discipline any longer, Keith shut his eyes tightly and closed the gap between them. Lance’s eyes widened slightly, before giving in, moaning into the kiss. 

It was a chaste kiss for the first few seconds, until the growing body heat got to them. Keith opened his mouth slightly, allowing Lance to explore with his tongue, while tugging on his black hair, wanting to taste more. Lance backed Keith up against the pillar, and kissed him again, this time more softly and respectfully. Pulling away after seemed like forever, Lance touched foreheads with the him, exasperated and pleasantly satisfied. 

 

“So, the sin from my lips is washed away by your lips.”

 

Keith opened his eyes, but quickly closed them, realizing how amazing the kiss was. He breathed heavily, his cheeks flushed, and the sound of Lance’s breathing patterns made him go weak in the knees. This was all too much at one time, but it made Keith curious exactly how far he could go. 

“Then my lips have the sin that they’ve taken from yours.” Keith manages to rasp out before his breaths become heavy again. Cracking an eye open, he meets the blue ones of Lance. His face was flushed pink, hair ruffled slightly, and was clearly affected just as much as Keith was.

 

“Sin from my lips? How sweetly you tell me that I have sinned against you!” Lance smirks mockingly at the blushing boy under his grip. “Give me my sin back again.”

 

Lance’s face collides into Keith’s quite hard, making him groan in pain, but moves with the kiss as if it didn’t matter. The rhythm of the two grew into a frantic and aggressive desire to touch, all while Keith was crowded up against the pillar, painfully. And just for the thrill of the night, if this wasn’t enough, Lance began to undo the first few buttons on Keith’s dress shirt, revealing more pale skin making him crave the skin under the material.

Keith moans at the action, pushing Lance away but still holding onto his arms. Their breathing grows heavier by the passing moment and they somehow forget they’re in public. 

 

“You kiss by the book.”

 

“Keith!”

 

The sound of Keith’s name being called snaps him out of his star struck trance. Turning his head to face in the direction of where it came from. On the nearby stairwell, he sees Shay running towards him in a panic. Soon realizing what position Keith was with Lance at the moment, and with the Nurse approaching quickly, he pushed the boy out of his reach and straightened his posture. 

When Shay finally arrived, she glances at Lance quickly, making some sort of mental note to ask Keith about it later. Little did they know, she was spying on the two for some time, and wondered if he’d tell her about it if she didn’t bother him right off the bat.

 

“Sir, your father wishes a word with you.” Shay says slowly.

 

Nodding, Keith spares Lance a glance of sorrow quickly, walking away to the stairwell, still dizzy from their previous activities. 

Lance swivels himself to face Shay. “Who is his father?”

 

“Well, young sir, her father is the head of this house. And he’s a good lad, wise and virtuous. I took care of his son to whom you were talking. I tell you, the lady/man that can win her shall have some money.” Shay replies, looking at him in question to why he would ask such a thing.

Before Lance could stutter out a response, the Nurse was already walking away after Keith, leaving him in a state of shock. The son, of the man of this house? That would make him a-

 

Lance walked over to the pillar and leaned against it. Thoughts rapidly coming through his mind, making him want to scream into the open air. “I-Is he a Capulet? Now my life is in debt with my enemy.”

 

Closing his eyes, he stood there for a few moments, catching his breath onto what had occurred not too long ago. The sounds of footsteps approaching broke his thoughts, his head tilted upwards slightly trying to see who had come to bother him.

It was his cousin Pidge, who looked exhausted from dancing all night, but still wore their signature scowl. They walked up towards Lance now smiling a bit. “Come on, let’s go. The best of the party is over.” 

 

“Yes I’m afraid so,” Lance says sadly, kicking himself off the wall to walk besides Pidge. “Which makes me more uneasy.”

 

Saying their thanks to the heads of the house hold for the magnificent party, the three friends slowly make their way out of the house, into the open night air. Everything around them was a mess to say the least. The newly hung streamers were now on the floor, every table was covered in half drunken cups of liquor, and the floor was decorated in muddy foot prints. Servants had just begun to scrub the dirt, sweat already beading down upon their foreheads. 

 

Everyone was tired from partying, Lance was rattled for an entirely different reason but even so, he had to admit he had an enjoyable time. 

 

Not far from where they were walking out, Keith roughly pulled Shay to the top of the stairwell and pointed at the small group of friends heading out the door. “Come here, Nurse. Who is that gentleman there?”

 

Shay followed his hand pointing accordingly. “The son and heir of old Tiberio.”

“Who’s the one that’s going out the door now?”

“My I think that’s young Petruchio.”

Sighing impatiently, Keith pointed to Lance down below. “Who’s the one that follows behind the others, the one that wouldn’t dance?”

 

“I know not.” She responded, looking at Keith in question.

 

“Go ask his name. If he’s married, then my wedding bed will be my grave.” 

 

Shay grumbled something about ‘always bossing me around’ before walking over down to the ballroom floor. Keith turned around, not baring to see the beautiful man’s face again, and instead focused on the decorations glittering the walls. That was a coping mechanism for the Capulet, and it always seemed to calm him down.

When Shay returned, Keith bombarded her with questions, not being patient enough for her dialogue she usually gave him.

 

“His name is Lance, and he’s a Montague. He’s the only son of your great enemy.” 

 

A wave of shock hit Keith as Shay spoke. It couldn’t be true, he wouldn’t believe it with his own eyes. Although it was realistically possible, it was too painful to even think about.

 

“The only one I love is the son of the only one I hate. When I first saw him, I didn’t know who he was. Now, too late, I know! What an ominous first love for me-that I must love a hated enemy!” He swears quietly under his breath, his chest tightening the more he thought about the matter.

 

Shay however, was listening to Keith’s rambling, and was now interested in what he was talking about. “What’s this? What’s this?” She questioned him impatiently.

 

Keith shook his head, smiling sadly. “A rhyme I heard from someone I danced with.” 

 

The sound of Keith’s name being called interrupted their conversation, so Shay decided to go along with the lie he presented her, and rushed him away to his father’s calling. 

“In a minute! In a minute! Come on, let’s go. The guests have all gone.” 

He walked slowly over to his father, sulking in the tiniest bit. Shay noticed this and made yet another mental note to find out what had happened earlier that rattled him so. Maybe it was that boy he wouldn’t stop asking about? Or something else?

She disregarded the matter completely, and made her way over to the two across the now messy ballroom. Maybe by leaving him alone, Keith would come to her by himself and tell her everything. 

Reverse psychology, she thought with a smile, maybe that’ll do the trick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I start school tomorrow :( But I'll do my best to update whenever I can, sorry for the waIT-


	4. Act 2 Scene I/II

The old infatuation is now dead, and a new love longs to replace it.

The beautiful woman, previously longed for and worth dying for, doesn’t seem as beautiful when compared to tender Keith. Now Lance is in love again, and he is loved in return.

He and Keith are mutually enchanted by the charm of gazing at one another. But he must woo an alleged foe, and he must steal love’s sweet bait from a dangerous trap.

Since he’s considered an enemy, he isn’t free to see him and make the usual promises of love. And though he is just as much in love, he has even fewer means to meet his new sweetheart anywhere.

Nevertheless, their passion motivates them. Time grants them opportunities to meet, and their troubles are moderated by these sweet meetings.  
\---------------------------------------------------------

 

The three walked out of the Capulet estate, and started to head home for the night. Lance droned out Pidge’s and Hunk’s conversation the first seconds into it, his mind completely boggled. He was leaving? From the house he’d just made out with some random guy? If only he could just sneak back in, to catch even the smallest glimpse of him, he’d be satisfied. 

Turning his head slowly towards his friends, Lance created a plan, a plan to creep back into the estate, and to see the Capulet once more. He scanned the sidewalk out in front of him, and started quickening his pace. Unknown to Pidge and Hunk, Lance had figured out how to get back to the party.

 

“Sorry guys,” He whispered to himself. “How can I walk on, when my heart is here? Turn around, weary body, and follow your heart.”

 

Before Pidge or Hunk could say anything to Lance, he started to run further up the road, confusing them entirely. They shouted after him, desperately, trying to stop him, but he was too far away. Turning a corner, Lance stopped in front of a bush the size of a small wall, and climbed the hedge. He jumped over the décor, and landed on the ground below him in one swift motion. The calls of his name still sounded the air, and he held his breath, hoping his friends wouldn’t discover him.

 

“Lance! Cousin Lance! Lance!” Pidge shouted, their voice becoming nearer to his location.

 

Lance could practically hear Hunk shaking his head from where he was as the footsteps got closer. “He’s smart. I bet he got himself home to bed.”

 

“He ran this way and climbed over this garden wall. Call him, Hunk.”

 

Lance gulped, a little too loudly and walked away from the garden shrub, trying to escape.

 

“Sure I’ll conjure him up. Lance! Moody one! Maniac! Incurable Romantic! Lover!-“ Hunk dabbled on, trying to get his attention. Little did he know, Lance was now across the yard, and gone for the night. But he could hear some of it, and swore on his life that he’d punch him later the next day.

 

“If he can hear you, he’ll be angry.” Pidge said with a frown.

 

“This won’t anger him,” Hunk began with a smirk. “He’d be angry if I summoned a spirit to rise in his lover’s circle, and let it stand there until she laid her spell on it and made it lie down. Now, that would provoke him. My spell is fair and honest. It’s only in his beloved name to arouse him.”

 

Shaking their head, Pidge turned around and started to walk away, waving their hand for him to follow. “Let’s go. He’s hiding in the trees to commune with the brooding night. His love is blind. It belongs in the dark.”

Hunk jogged up besides them. “Love that’s blind is lost. Now, he’ll sit under an apple tree and wish his lover was the type of fruit whose suggestive shape young women snicker about. Oh Lance! If only she was that type of apple and you were a long pear! Goodnight Lance wherever the hell you ran off to. I’m off to my bed. It’s too cold for me to be camping out. Come on. Shall we go?”

“Yes. Let’s go.” They answered with a small smile but still was mildly concerned for his cousin. “It’s useless to look for him when he doesn’t want to be found.”

 

And at that, the two friends walked side by side, chatting the rest of the night away. And totally unaware of what was to occur that evening.  
\-----------------------------------------

 

The garden was very complex, and many times was made difficult to get around. Lance grumbled to himself as he got poked with yet another thorn of some sort of berry. 

 

“He makes fun of wounds he’s never experienced.” 

 

Hunk didn’t know who he’d met at that party, and didn’t understand what Lance was experiencing at the moment, which made him angry. Of course he’d never understand, but alas, they were friends and he loved Hunk very much so. If only he’d understand-

 

Lance’s thought process was interrupted by ruffling of curtains up above his location, making him look up, but hid away in fear of being seen. He wanted to get a better look of who it was, and made his way over to a bush near the balcony that was attached to the building. 

 

Keith.

 

Out of all places, he had to be here. It was like love’s greatest coincidence, and Lance was basking in the admirable presence of him. Keith was still wearing the red button down dress shirt he’d worn earlier that night, and had his long hair flowing across his shoulders dramatically. The moonlight was shone down onto the garden, hitting his face in a beautiful way.

 

Lance was enchanted by this man, and wanted to approach him. But instead, hid in his hiding spot, staring at the strangely torn Keith. 

 

“But soft.” Lance whispered to himself, almost daydreaming. “What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Keith is the sun.”

 

He imagined their lips together again, and how his heart had almost burst from the sensation. The touching of skin, and the staring. It was all too much.

“Arise radiant sun, and overshadow the jealous moon. She’s sick and pale with grief because you, her chaste servant, are so much more beautiful. Don’t serve her, because she envies you. It’s the man I love! If only he knew that I loved him. He speaks but I cannot hear him. What of it? His eyes speak to me, and I will answer them.”

Shaking his head, Lance cursed under his breath in frustration. “I’m too presumptuous. It’s not me who he’s talking to. Two of heavens most dazzling stars have begged his eyes to shine in their orbits, while they go off in some business. And what if his eyes really were there and the stars shone in his face? The brightness of his cheeks would outshine those stars like daylight outshines a lamp. His eyes would glow so brightly in the sky that birds would sing, thinking it was daybreak.”

 

As if keeping time, he watched Keith slowly rest his face onto his hand upon the balcony grimly. He looked almost sad. “Look at how he leans his face on his hand. How I wish I could be the glove on his hand, so that I could touch his cheek!” Lance’s voice grew slightly louder than before, extremely tired of sitting around while watching Keith look down.

 

He sighed dramatically, thinking nobody was there down below to listen. “Oh me!”

 

“He speaks. Oh, speak again, bright angel,” Lance spoke barely above a whisper, scooting closer to the balcony. “Standing above me, you glorify this night like an angel from heaven that visits a marveling human. He staggers and gazes up with awestruck eyes at this angel, who mounts a lingering cloud and sails through the depths of the heavens.”  
Keith looked at the moon and frowned. He was deep in thought, and grew tired of the silence radiating the orchard below. Taking a deep breath, he spoke out loud to himself and to himself only. 

 

“Oh Lance, Lance, wherefore art thy Lance? Deny your father and refuse thy name. Or swear to by my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

 

Lance held his breath, soon becoming flustered. Keith was talking about him? So he wasn’t the only one who was rattled by the events at the party, and perhaps wanted more. Leaning in as close as he could without being spotted, he listened. 

 

“It’s only your name that is my enemy,” Keith admitted to himself, continuing with haste. “You would still be yourself if you were not a Montague. What is a Montague? It’s not a hand, or foot, or arm, or face, or any part of a person. Oh, change your name. What’s in a name? If what we call a rose were renamed, it would still smell just as sweet,”  
Lance giggled at the metaphor and leaned in closer. “So if Lance weren’t called Lance, he would still retain his precious perfection. He possesses it regardless of his name. Lance, get rid of your name, which isn’t part of you, and in exchange take all of me.”

 

As Keith finished his rant out into the open ‘empty’ orchard, he sighed again and slid onto his knees in defeat, while hanging his head depressingly.

 

Lance was on the edge of his seat, flustered and eager to speak up. He couldn’t stand the sight of Keith in despair like this, so he approached the situation with precaution. 

Creeping up to where Keith could catch a glimpse of his figure, Lance stepped out into the open willingly.

 

“I’ll take you at your word. Just call me ‘love,’ and I’ll be reborn. From now on, I’m no longer Lance.”

 

At the sound of an unknown voice calling out to Keith, his head shot up faster than Lance could even begin to explain himself. Keith scrambled onto his feet and leaned over the balcony ledge, searching for the person who’d disrupted his thoughts and possibly heard most of his conversation. “Who’s there, concealed in the dark and eavesdropping on my secret thoughts?”

“I don’t know how to tell you who I am.” Lance smoothed his words, walking towards the balcony. “My name, dear saint, is repulsive to me because it’s your enemy. If I had written it, I would tear it up.”

 

Keith peered into the orchard and gasped at the figure walking towards him.

Could it be him?

It was quite late out, so he was surprised to see a visitor, but what was more surprising was who exactly the person was. “My ears have not even taken in a hundred words from your mouth, but I recognize your voice. Aren’t you Lance, and a Montague?” he asked cautiously, but was happy none the less.

Lance nodded and smiled into the moonlight, his features radiating off the side of his face, and projecting a good vibe onto Keith. 

 

“I’m neither, if either displeases you,” He stopped in his tracks as if hesitating to say anything else. “Is this okay? I’m sorry I should’ve messaged or scheduled an actual date but I couldn’t wait for some reason I’m sor-“

 

Keith caught onto where he was leading to and shook his head frantically. “No! No please stay, you’re fine, really.”

 

Blushing, he hung his head slightly and smiled at the speechless boy down below, the light from the moon hitting his face. “You’re okay. But tell me, how did you get here, and why? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb. And because of who you are, this place could be fatal to you if any of my relatives find you here.”

“I flew over these walls with love’s light wings. Barriers of stone can’t hold back love. And love takes risks to accomplish what it can. Therefore, your relatives can’t hinder me.” Lance replied, sending him a dashing smirk, trying to get him in the mood.

 

Keith held his usual straight face before giggling into his hand, his entire face adorned with a bright pink. He shook his head silently turning to look behind him, before facing the boy once more. “If they see you, they’ll kill you.”

 

The now amused Montague walked closer to the balcony, and shrugged. “Oh! Your eyes are more dangerous than twenty of their swords! Only look upon me favorably, and I am immune to their hostility.”

 

“I would not want them to see you here for anything in the world.”

 

Lance was now as close to the ledge as he could get, and wanted to get even further upwards. He contemplated climbing it several times to himself. “The night’s veil hides me from their sight. And if you only love me, let them find me here. I’d rather have my life ended by their hatred than postpone a death and live without your love.”

The Capulet was so entranced, he had placed his chin into his hands and stared at Lance in awe. They literally just met a couple hours ago, and here they were, already declaring their love for each other. Was this a dream?

“Who showed you how to find me?” Keith pondered out loud.

“Love did,” Lance answered promptly, now approaching the wall, and starting to climb up the ladder that was engraved into the stone. “Which first inspired me to seek you. He offered me advice, and I offered him my vision. I’m not a navigator, but even if you were as far away as a vast shore of the most remote sea-“ 

He stopped his sentence once again, and jumped onto the balcony ledge, pulling himself up onto the white concrete. Keith stared at his working of getting to where he was and thought of going over to help Lance. But before he could act on anything, he was already onto the balcony. 

Lance brushed gravel off of his shirt quickly before catching the stare of Keith onto his form, following the look hastily. Without missing a beat he drew nearer, continuing his words. “I would venture out to search for a treasure like you.” 

 

Looking him into his blue ocean eyes, Keith blushed even harder, fumbling for the right words to seal the deal. Make the moment even more perfect. What could he say without making it awkward? Keith always thought of himself as a top notch romantic in his head most times, but in reality was the biggest dork ever. He couldn’t even think of anything to say, which to Lance was quite adorable. And he decided to himself that Keith being flustered by one of his cheesy pick-up lines that usually drove most of the women far away, was cute. 

 

Keith was cute.

 

He was currently hesitating to move any closer to Lance, but was staring into his eyes like he wanted to rip his clothes off with no warning, and devour each other aggressively without care. His purple eye’s glittered from the moonlight shining down on him, words caught in his throat. 

 

“You know that the night obscures my face. Otherwise, a girlish blush would tint my cheeks because of what you overheard me say tonight. I’d like to observe the proper formalities and gladly, gladly deny what I said. But farewell etiquette!”

 

Keith took a deep breath and grasped Lance’s shoulders without warning, startling the boy. He bit his lip, and looked into his deep eyes. “Do you love me?”

 

And at that, Lance couldn’t stop staring, it was all too much to handle at one time. 

 

Did he love Keith?

 

Before Lance could even begin to say anything, Keith pushed him away from his body, shaking his head with widened eyes realizing what he had just asked. “I know you’ll answer ‘yes’, and I’ll take your word for it. Yet, if you swear, you might prove untrue. They say the god of Jupiter laughs at lover’s false oaths.”

He chuckled darkly at his words, and turned to face the star struck brunette with a pout. “Oh, gentle Lance, if you love me, profess it faithfully. Or if you think I give in too easily, I’ll frown and be stubborn, and I’ll reject you so you’ll keep pursuing me-otherwise, I wouldn’t do that for the world.”

Walking towards Lance, he reached out and caressed his cheek softly, unsure of how to please the man in front of him. “To tell you the truth, dear Montague, I’m too affectionate, and therefore you might think I’m not that serious. But believe me sir, I’ll prove more faithful than those who play hard to get. I’ll admit that I should have been more aloof. But without my being aware of it, you overheard my true feelings.”

Listening intently, Lance leaned into the touch, wanting something more than what he was receiving. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Keith’s neck, pulling him closer.  
“So forgive me, and don’t misinterpret this surrender as a frivolous love that the dark night has brought to the light,” Keith continued, placing his hands onto Lance’s hips, watching him closely as his actions flicked on something deep inside his mind. “But take me instead-“

That was all Lance needed to hear before pulling onto his neck, kissing him without warning. Keith’s widened eyes soon closed and grasped Lance’s hair roughly, desperate for more. The two melted into each other as they explored the other’s mouths, moaning in between breaths. Forgetting where they were entirely, the Capulet soon realized what was happening.

Keith pulled away after many minutes and looked to the side, his blushing intensifying. Thinking it was the most beautiful thing in the world, Lance grasped his chin to turn his face towards him. “Sir, I vow by the blessed moon up there, whose light tips the leaves on top of the fruit trees silver-“

“Oh, don’t swear by the moon! Not by the erratic moon, that changes as she makes her monthly rounds –in case your love turns out to be just as changeable.” Keith frowned at his own words, thinking of how harsh it must’ve sounded coming out.

Lance, still holding onto Keith’s neck, leaned by his right ear and sighed sending shivers throughout the boy. “Then what should I swear by?”

 

“Don’t swear at all. Or if you must swear, swear by your gracious self, which is the god I worship. Then I’ll believe you.” He answered.

 

“If my beloved, dear sweetheart-“

“Well don’t swear,” Keith shot back, changing his mind. “Although I rejoice you, I take no joy in these vows tonight. It’s too risky, too ill-advised, too sudden, too much like lightning- which ends before you can say, ‘It’s gotten light.’”

They kissed again, more softly and gentle, but dripping with need. Mouths clashing together, faces red with flustered cheeks, and most of all, the sadness of their devastating dilemma. 

When they finally pulled away damp with sweat, Keith smiled at Lance with a passion he never knew was there. “Sweetheart, goodnight. By the time we next meet, this budlike beginning of love may have blossomed into a beautiful flower, ripened by the summer air. Good night, good night! May such sweet rest and sleep come to your heart as lies within mine.”

“Oh, will you leave me so unsatisfied” Lance groaned erratically.

 

Raising a brow in question, Keith responded with a more of a suggestive tone then he was normally used to. “What satisfaction can you have tonight?”

 

“Your vow of true love, exchanged for mine.”

 

“I gave you mine before you asked for it. And yet I wish I had it to give away again.” He sighed calmly.

 

This got Lance’s attention, bringing him back into the present. “You’d like to take it back? Why, my love?”

 

“Only to be free with it and give it to you again. But I’m wishing for what I already have. My gifts are as boundless as the sea. My love is just as deep. The more I give to you, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

A sudden noise sounded inside Keith’s room, making him turn sharply in the direction of the disruption. 

“I hear a noise inside. Dear love, goodbye.” Keith quickly sputtered out, pushing him near the ladder to make his departure.

 

Lance wouldn’t dare leave like this however, and brought his face near Keith’s with an apologetic look, and pecked him on the lips. Not expecting such an action, Keith made a grunt of surprise but kissed back shortly. He couldn’t leave like this, not when he had this boy all worked up.

 

Pushing the Capulet up against the wall, he leaned over his neck and kissed it, hard. Keith stifled his moans wanting to come out, and tried to pry Lance off of his skin. “Lance, I think someone is here.”

A muffled noise of what sounded like Keith’s name being called in the distance caught both of their attentions, making them scramble to their original postures trying to be formal. 

“Just a minute!” Keith yelled out to the voice and turned over to Lance, who was blushing furiously besides him. “Sweet Montague, be true. Wait just a little; I’ll be back.”

 

He walked into the doorway of his room and shut it swiftly, leaving the frazzled Montague alone with his thoughts once again. A smile adorned his face, and he felt the need to pat himself on the back for such an amazing turn out. “Oh blessed, blessed night. Because it’s the night, I’m afraid that this is all just a dream. It’s too full of sweet fantasies to be real.” 

 

He jumped off the ladder after finishing climbing down, his boots hitting the wet grass. Lance looked upwards, wanting to see Keith once more before he had to make his way home. Taking his time to leave, he scanned the environment around him and whistled, clearly impressed. The orchard was scattered with plants of many kinds, mostly berries with sharp thorns. Before he was tempted to eat one, he was interrupted by Keith rushing out onto the balcony looking around for him to see if the boy had left yet.

 

Spotting Lance in the orchard he waved wildly, and motioned him to come closer to the balcony. He crept forward, trying not to draw a ton of attention, and leaned upwards, imagining the touch of Keith’s face as he listened.

 

“Three more words, dear Lance, and then goodnight for real. If your romantic intentions are honorable and your purpose is to get married, send me a message tomorrow telling me where and when you’ll perform the ceremony. And then I’ll lay my whole life at your feet, and follow you as my lord throughout the world.” 

 

Lance grinned from ear to ear, extremely happy at these words. Even if he had just met this stranger a couple hours ago, he felt as if this moment was true, and they’d stay together, forever. A long happy life, married to him. And even though marriage at the time and place was illegal if it was of the same sex, he was sure they’d figure everything out.

 

“Keith!” Shay’s voice echoed inside the room shocking the two.

 

“I’m coming right now!” Keith shouted back, and faced Lance one more time with sorrow. “But if you’re not being sincere, I beg you-“

“Sir!” Shay called again, much harsher than before.

“Oh my god, I’m coming right now!” He snapped, anger lacing his tone, before turning back. “To stop courting me and leave me alone to grieve. Tomorrow I’ll send my messenger.”

“Upon my soul-“ Lance started with a smile.

“A thousand times goodnight.” Keith finished, smiling back.

As he rushed off, shutting the door with a slam, and hearing the muffled voices from inside, he felt worse than before. Thinking this was entirely a bad idea, Lance started to leave the decorated orchard and return home, sulking. It was his own damn fault of wanting to come to see Keith’s face one more time if not ever, and it did nothing but trouble him so. 

 

“I’m a thousand times worse off, without your light. Lovers run to each other the way schoolboys run from their books. But lovers say goodbye slowly and reluctantly, like schoolboys heading to class.”

 

Keith opened the door quietly, and rushed out onto the ledge, peering out into the open garden, looking for the Montague he had just sent away. Finding the shadow of the boy walking towards the entry way, he whisper yelled as loud as he could, without being heard from everyone inside. 

“Psst! Lance! Psst! Oh, if only I had a voice like a falcon, to lure the noble hawk back again. Controlled by a strict father. I’m forced to speak low and quietly. If only he could hear my callings.”

Hearing a small voice from back inside the orchard, Lance hurriedly rushed back, scanning the garden twice only to find nothing. Disappointed, Lance kicked a pebble, sending it flying through the plants.“It’s my soul who’s calling out my name. How silvery-sweet lover’s voices sound in the night. It’s like the softest music to listening ears.” He grumbled in frustration.

 

“Lance!”

 

Now he had defiantly heard that, and there was nothing in his right mind to tell him it was indeed false. Turning around he saw a distressed Keith motioning for him to come over on top of the balcony ledge. Lance rushed over, his shoes rubbing against the dirt.

 

“My dear?” He questioned trying to stay quiet.

 

“What time should I send my messenger to you tomorrow?”

 

“By nine o’ clock.”

 

Nodding, Keith crossed his arms at the thought. “I won’t fail to do it. It feels like twenty years until then. I forgot why I called you back.”

 

Lance laughed softly. “I’ll stand here until you can remember.”

Keith immediately blushed, and scratched his arm nervously at the response. “I’ll forget, just have you keep standing there, remembering only how I love your company.”

“And I’ll keep waiting,” he teased back, walking near to the ledge. “So that you’ll keep forgetting. And I’ll forget I have any other home than this one.”

Smirking, Keith leaned over the balcony wall remembering what time it was. “It’s almost morning. I would like you to go-but no further than a spoiled boy’s bird. He lets it hop a little away from her hand, like a poor prisoner in his twisted chains. Then she pulls it back again with silk thread, for he’s so lovingly possessive and jealous of its freedom.”

 

Lance shook his head silently but still smiled as he listened to his words. “I wish I was your bird.”

 

“Sweet do I,” Keith cooed. “But it’d kill you by cherishing you so much. Goodnight goodnight! Parting is so sweetly sad that I could go on saying goodnight until the morning.”

 

“Oh I wish you would, so that I could stay here all night.”

 

Both giggling, the two stared into each others eyes before realizing they could stall the entire night without a care in the world.

 

“Goodnight.” Lance sadly responded, his lips yearning to kiss Keith’s sweet ones once again.

And as if reading his mind, Keith stood there like he didn’t want to leave and slowed his movements. 

Seeing the rare chance to do so, Lance ran up to the ladder once more, climbing it quickly. Keith tilted his head in confusion and rushed over to Lance’s side to see what was the matter. Before he could say or do anything, Lance pressed his lips against Keith’s. He was startled at first, but deciding on rolling with it. As he melted into the newly shared kiss, they began to fight for dominance, trying to take over control of the other. Lance grasped Keith’s hair in between his fingers, bringing their bodies close. Both tried to stay as quiet as possible, but with the increasing heat of the two, it was becoming increasingly harder.

 

Finally pulling away, Keith shoved Lance away with a frazzled look, a blush present on his face. “Goodnight, for real.”

 

Pretending to be annoyed, Lance pouted. “Fine. I’m leaving.” 

 

Keith laughed a little too loudly before covering his mouth in realization of being heard inside. He shooed Lance off the balcony with an amused expression and into the orchard momentarily, trying not to get him seen by one of his relatives. 

 

He turned around to Lance before reaching up to touch his lips, capturing the moment. Keith smiled to himself, before walking inside the doorway, disappearing for the night. 

 

“May sleep visit your eyes, and peace live in your heart. If only I were sleep and peace, to rest in such sweet places. I’ll go to my father confessor’s chamber, to beg for his help and tell him about my good fortune.” He whispered, mostly to himself, but prayed that Keith would sleep well tonight, in return for the events upcoming the next day.

Lance took one last glance at the orchard, scanning for any signs of movements, before walking out into the night to head home at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for this being late, school has started for me and I'm crazy busy, but hope you all enjoy :)


	5. Act 2 Scene III/IV

“The gray-eyed morning lightens the gloomy night and smiles away night’s frowns.”

 

A hand outstretches to feel the array of flowers perched upon the small balcony of the garden. His hand accidentaly feels the prickly thorns of a particular red rose and he flinches backwards, shaking it away. Smoothing out his mustache, he flattens his ruffled dark clothing, and bends down to watch an army of ants march into the dirt with confidence. 

“Streaks of light pattern the eastern clouds. Like a drunkard, dappled darkness reels out of the way of the day and fiery sun.” 

 

He walks over to one of the garden tables and grabs the woven basket sitting on top of the surface with ease. Bending down, he plucked a small white flower and placed it inside. “This frail flower’s young rind contains both poison and medicinal power. Smell this part of it and your whole body feels better.”

 

He frowned, and continued muttering words about the flower. “But if you taste it, it kills you, and then you won’t smell or taste anymore. And humankind is like herbs. Both people and herbs contain both good and evil, camped within them like two enemy armies. When evil is predominant, death’s worm eats up the plant.”

Stopping his speech, the sounds of frantic footsteps were in earshot, causing his head to turn rather sharper than usual. He narrowed his eyes slightly whilst setting the basket back onto the glass table.  
The noise grew louder and louder before stopping abruptly, a boy approached through the green bushes. The man drew a sharp breath in before letting it out with relief. 

 

“Lance my boy, you scared me half to death-“

 

“Good morning, Coran!” He chirped rather loudly. 

 

Coran, the man who had been talking to himself all morning, was rather amused. He was a father figure towards the Montague, and had always tried to be there for him. Lance was of course was very appreciative towards him, and often came for words of advice from time to time.

 

Chuckling at the boy, Coran turned to face him fully. “A blessing on you. Whose early-risen voice so sweetly hails me? Young son, leaving your bed so early suggests a disturbed mind. Worry keeps watch in the eyes of old men, and sleep will never visit those old eyes where worry lives. But golden sleep rules where troubled-free young men rest their limbs with clear minds. Therefore, your earliness tells me you’re awake because something’s upsetting you. Or if that’s wrong, then here I’ve got it right: Our Lance didn’t go to bed tonight.”

 

He cackled loudly, eyes screwed shut while bending over laughing into the morning air. “That last one’s true. I’ve had sweeter rest.”

“God pardon sin! Were you with Nyma?”

Lance shook his head, still smiling proudly. “With Nyma, good Father? No. I’ve forgotten about that name and the pain that went with it.”

“That’s good my son,” Coran spoke, worry laced his words. “But then where have you been?”

The question sparked the Montague’s energy, motioning for Coran to come closer. 

“I’ll tell you before you have to ask me again. I have been to a party at my enemy’s. There, suddenly someone I wounded also wounded me. Both of us can be cured by your holy medicine. I bear no hatred, blessed man. For as you can see, my request also helps my enemy.”

Coran simply shook his head, eyes wide in confusion. “Good son, speak plainly and simply. Confessing in riddles brings riddles for absolution.”

“Then you must plainly know that rich Capulet’s lovely son is my heart’s desire.” Lance sassed, arms cross in annoyance. “As my love is his, so is his mine. We are combined, except for what you must combine in holy marriage. When, where, and how we met, wooed, and exchanged vows—I’ll tell you as we walk. But I beg of you to agree to marry us today.”

 

Coran’s eyes widened even further, choking on his own saliva loudly, not believing a word Lance was saying to him. To get married? Today??

 

“Holy—“

 

He stopped to choke some more before standing upright, shaking his head repeatedly. 

 

“Holy Saint Francis! What a change this is! Has Nyma, whom you loved so dearly, been forgotton so quickly?”

 

Yep!”

 

“Your old groans still ring in my ancient ears. Look, there’s still a stain on your cheek from an old tear that hasn’t been washed off your face. If you ever were you, and these sorrows were yours, you and your sorrows were all devoted to Nyma. And you’ve changed? Repeat this sentence, then: “Women fall from grace when men have no strength.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes, shooing the exasperated Coran away with his hand. “You often scolded me for loving Nyma.”

 

“For clinging onto her, not for loving her, my boy.”

 

“And-“ He stepped off to the side, continuing on with the point. “You told me to bury my love.”

 

Coran walked over to grab the woven basket, while thinking Lance’s words over. 

“Not to put one into a grave so you could talk another one out.”

“Please don’t scold me,” Lance pried. “The boy I love now returns joy for joy and love for love. The other didn’t.”

Sighing into the air, Coran scanned the garden before nodding to himself. “Oh, she knew your love just repeated what it heard and couldn’t come up with words of his own. But come, young waverer, come along with me. There’s one reason I’ll assist you: This marriage could have the happy result of turning your families’ hatred into pure love.”

“Oh, let’s go. I can’t wait any longer!” Lance jumped up and down, clearly excited for Coran’s approval.

He shook his head once more, motioning to lead the way into the chapel. “Wisely and slowly. Those who run fast, stumble. And eventually fall.”

X x x x x x  
The rising sun rained down upon the small city, now bustling with people and shop owners, ready to begin their day.

On the other side of the central square, lay the two friends, who were now quite concerned with the missing presence of their friend who had ditched them that night as they were all exiting the party.  
“Where the devil can this Lance be?” Hunk spat, throwing a rock at a nearby brick wall, enclosing them into the alleyway. “Didn’t he come home last night?”

Pidge shook their head. “Not to his father’s. I spoke with his servant and they hadn’t seen anyone appear.”

Groaning, Hunk threw another rock, this time it bouncing off and hitting the trash can making a loud echo sound.

 

“Why, that same pale, hard-hearted women, that Nyma, torments him so much he’s bound to go mad.”

 

“Old Capulet’s nephew, Rax, sent a letter to Lance’s father’s house by the way.” Pidge commented, ignoring the groans of the boy next to them.

Hunk glared into their direction, tilting his head slightly. “I’d bet my life it’s a challenge to fight.”

“Lance will answer it.” Pidge retorted.

“Any man who can write can answer a letter.”

They raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “No, I mean he’ll answer the letter-writer by accepting his challenge. He’ll show how he’ll take on a dare.”

“Alas, poor Lance,” Hunk slurred mockingly. “He’s already dead. Stabbed with a glance from that white woman’s black eye, stabbed through the ear with a love song. Blind Cupid’s toy arrow has stuck the very bull’s-eye of his heart. And is he a man to fight with Rax?”

 

Pidge kicked a pebble across the open alleyway with haste. “Why, what is so frightening about Rax?”

 

And just like that, Hunk’s eyes lit up in anger yet excitement. He grabbed another rock aggressively and wiped his sweaty forhead. “He’s more than just the Prince of Cats. Oh, he’s the courageous captain of high points. He fights like you’d sing a note-perfect song. He keeps perfectly accurate time, pace, and rhythm. He takes short rests—one , two, and the third is a sword thrust into your chest.”

 

“The what?” Pidge inquired, barely listening to him.

 

“The plague take these silly, accented, affected show-offs; these makers of fashionable phrases! These fashion-mongers, these pardon-me types, who stand by the new trends so much they can’t sit easily on an old bench?”

Hunk thought of all the other so called horrible things about the Capulet, before seeing a figure walking towards them quickly. He nudged Pidge lightly, before realizing who exactly it was.

Pidge clapped slowly, in sarcasm. “Here comes Lance, here comes Lance!”

Hunk grinned. “You gave a counterfeit deal last night. Where were you?”

 

Smiling, Lance shrugged in explanation, before waving to his friend.

 

“Good day to you both. What deal did I give you?”

 

Rolling their eyes, Pidge patted Lance on the back. “The slip, sir the slip! Can’t you follow me?”

“I’m sorry, good Pidge. My business was important, and in a case like mine a man may bend the rules of courtesy.” He nodded softly in their direction.

“That’s like saying that a case like yours forces a man to bend from bow legs.” They retorted in confusion.

Tilting his head, Lance motioned on. “Meaning to curtsy?”

 

“Now you’ve hit it.”

 

Lance laughed. “Very courteously said.”

 

“Oh indeed, I’m a paragon, the pink of courteously.” Pidge sighed.

“Pink as in flower.”

“Right.”

“Well then,” Lance smiled sweetly in both their directions, turning to see the dents on the brick wall from Hunk’s rock throwing. “My shoe is very flowery, since it’s been ‘pinked’ with pinking shears.”

Laughing, Hunk threw another rock at the wall. “A steady wit! Let’s keep this joke going until you’ve worn out that shoe. When that shoe’s thin sole is worn out, the joke will outlast it, and remain, solely singular.”

 

“Oh what a feeble thin-soled joke, singular solely for its absurdity.”

 

Hunk was now laughing so hard he could barely finish his thoughts. “Good Pidge, break our contest up. My wits are tiring!”

Lance cackled with him, now aiming to throw a rock at the wall in front of the three. “Whips and spurs! Bring it on! Or else I’ll call the match.”

“I’ll bite your ear for that joke.”

“No, don’t bite my friend.”

Bending over to pick up another rock, Hunk almost toppled over from loss of balance, making him laugh harder. “Your wit’s as biting as a bitter apple. It’s very sharp sauce.”

Pidge covered their ears in annoyance. “What the fuck does that even mean oh my god.”

“Isn’t sharp applesauce what’s served with a sweet goose?” Lance slurred. 

Hunk nods with approval. “Oh, here’s a kid-leather wit, that stretches from one-inch to forty-five inches broad!”

“I’ll stretch it further to include the word ‘broad’- which, added to that broad joke about the goose-“

“Okay guys shut up please, the joke is dead.” Pidge shouted over the giggles filling the air.

“You want me to stop short in telling my tail, against my wish?” Hunk questioned, a smirk placed upon his tan face.

“Otherwise, your wish would have made your tale long.” They responded.

Hunk scoffed, nudging Lance. “Oh you’re wrong. I would have made it short, since I’d gone as far into it as I could, and I meant, indeed to pull out of the argument.”

 

Pidge looked into Hunks’s eyes and adjusted their glasses with intimidation. He shuddered at the eye contact and turned around to face Lance. “So, my friend. Are you ever going to tell us-“

 

“Here’s a splendid outfit!” Lance interrupted, running towards two figures approaching the alleyway. Hunk and Pidge turned their heads to see two people, a man and a women, walk slowly out of the darkness into the sunlight. They were dressed rather formally and the women was a Balmara, making Hunk blush in realization. 

 

Seeing his face turn red, Pidge smirked and nudged his friend into the chest suggestively. Hunk almost shrieked to what they were implying and pushed them a few feet away in annoyance.

“Peter!” Shay poked the man beside her. “Bring my fan.”

“Oh no don’t do that,” Hunk shook his head in amusement. “Her face is defiantly prettier than the fan.”

Shay raised an eyebrow in his direction, smiling at him. “Good morning to you, gentlemen.”

“Good afternoon to you, fair lady.” He responded, bowing slightly in her presence. 

“Is it afternoon?”

Nodding Hunk smiled back.. “It’s no less than that. The bawdy hand of the clock touches noon, erect at the top of the dial.”

 

“Oh, go away!” Shay scrunched up her face in disgust. “What kind of man are you?”

 

“One that God made to inquire himself, gentle lady.”

 

Shay sighed in exasperation before smoothing out her dress. “In faith, that’s well said. ‘To inquire himself’, he said. Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I can find the young Lance?” She asked, looking upon the three friends. 

 

Lance steps forward, a smile ghosting his features. “I can tell you, but ‘young Romeo’ will be older when you’ve found him than he was when you started looking. I am the youngest of that name, for lack of a worse.”

“Well put.” Shay responded, a smile placed upon her face.

Hunk scoffed loudly. “Oh, so his ‘worse’ is put well? Well, well,; very well put, too. Indeed very wise, very wise.”

He could’ve sworn to hear Pidge mutter something along the lines of, ‘just kiss already’ but he ignored it.

 

“If you are he, sir, I’d like to confide with you.” Shay sends a smile towards Hunk, unknowingly that she had used the set of words terribly wrong.

 

Pidge covered their face in amusement, laughing into their hands. “She’d like to ‘indite’ him to dinner.” They whispered loud enough for only Hunk to hear. He glared in their direction.

 

“A madam, a madam! So, ho!”

 

Lance interrupted the scene unfolding before him, getting quite impatient with the bickering. “What have you found?”

Hunk crossed his arms and looked in Lance’s direction. “Not a hare, sir.”

“I’ll stay right here then. You two can make your way out.” Lance motioned to the exit of the alley.

 

Sighing, Pidge grabbed Hunk’s hand and sped to the exit. Hunk turned his head far enough and winked in Shay’s direction. “Farewell, lady. Farewell, lady,lady,lady-“

 

“Oh shut up.” Pidge finished, waving goodbye to Lance before exiting with the all too excited Hunk.

 

Shay turned towards Lance and placed one of her hands on her hips, smiling at him knowingly. “Tell me, sir, who was that saucy fellow who was so full of dirty jokes?”

 

“A gentleman Nurse,” He began. “Who loves to hear himself talk. He’ll talk more in a minute than he’ll do in a month.”

She laughed freely, turning to the flabbergasted Peter, who had been doing nothing ever since they had both arrived at the scene. “If he says anything bad about me, I’ll take him down, I’ll take on friskier men than he, twenty of them! And if I can’t, I’ll find those who will. Despicable villain! I’m not one of those loose girls; I’m no low company!” 

She scoffed at the man and shook her head, catching his attention. “And you just stand there, letting every man take advantage of me?”

“I didn’t see any man take advantage of you. If I had, I guarantee I would have taken my weapon out quickly.” He answered, noting Lance’s movements.

 

“Anyways,” Shay nodded towards Lance. “As I told you, my young man asked me to find where you were. What he told me to say, I’ll keep it to myself. But first, let me tell you that if you’re leading him into a ‘fool’s paradise’, as they say, that would be a disgusting thing to do, as they say. For the boy is young. And therefore, if you’re dealing double with him, that’s a bad hand to deal to any man or woman, and a very mean trick.”

 

Lance smiled and put his arms up in the air, reassuring the Nurse. “Nurse, I give my regards to your man and mistress. I solemnly swear to you—“

“Bless your heart!” Shay interrupted, grabbing Lance into a tight hug before letting go. “And indeed I’ll tell her so. Lord, lord! He’ll be a joyful man.”

The Montague stopped her retreating form politely. “What will you tell him, Nurse? You’re not listening to me.”

“I’ll tell him, sir, that you, ‘solemnly swear’. Which, as I take it, is a gentlemanly proposal.”

“Tell him to find some way to go to confession this afternoon. And there he’ll give confessions and be married in Coran’s chamber.”

 

Lance grabs a couple coins out of his pant pocket, and hands her the money with a smile on his face. “This is for your trouble, I am truly sorry.”

 

Shay shook her head, trying to give back the coins in her hand to Lance. “No, truly, sir—not a penny.”

“No, I insist.”

Finally giving in, she hands the money to Peter, and continues on with the plan told from Keith himself. “This afternoon, sir? Well, he’ll be there for sure.”

“Wait, good Nurse. Within the hour, my servant will meet you behind the abbey wall and bring you a rope ladder, which I’ll use to convey me to the top of my joy in the dark of the night. Farewell. Be reliable, and I’ll reward you for it. Give my regards to him.” Lance bends over to bow respectfully at Shay before smiling in her direction.

“I can totally see why Keith is into you. Peter! You have the looks and everything. We must prepare for this celebration. You must not tell anyone of this matter.”  
Peter nods quietly, before stuffing the coins into his jacket pocket, motioning for her to continue. 

 

“Oh wait.” She speaks almost to herself. “Lance, can your servant keep a secret? Haven’t you heard it said that ‘two can keep a secret, as long as the one’s not there’?”

“I guarantee my servant’s as true as steel.”

 

Shay smiles at his response and remembers all of the memories she and Keith had together over the years. “Well, sir. The boy is the sweetest man—Lord lord! When he was a little prattling thing! Oh there’s a nobleman in town, named Rolo, who’d love to press his claim. But he, good soul, would soon see a toad, a very toad, rather than see him. I anger him sometimes by telling him that Rolo is the handsomer man. But, I’ll tell you, when I say that, he looks as pale as the whitest sheet in the entire world.”

 

“And he has the prettiest saying about it. Something about you and rosemary. It would do you good to hear it.” She finishes.

“My regards to him.” Lance waves before departing out of the alleyway.

“Yes, a thousand times. Peter!” 

“…Coming.” He mumbles, speed walking towards the exit.

Shay starts to wander after him, before turning to see Lance leave. She sighs to herself, a smile adorned on her face, knowing that he was perfect for Keith. Even if he was one of those blue pricks, it’d be nice for a change around the city and the Capulet household. 

Finally turning her head back to Peter, she followed after him, excitement secretly bouncing off of her form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally updating this, I love Friar Lawrence in the orignal R and J, so writing Coran as him was enjoyable. Enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, wow this is gonna be an emotional roller coaster for me?? But I had so much fun writing this and I can't wait to write more. I improvised with the original text, and used a more modern approach. Hope ya'll enjoy :)


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